


Raise Hell

by MamaZoom



Series: Raise Hell [1]
Category: Mint Royale-Blue Song, The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 87,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welp. I'm back again with a different thing. This time it's my own spin on a Mint Royale fic, and it's rather...um...ambitious, to put it lightly. Based on the 22 cards of the tarot's major arcana, it follows our protagonist Elias Grimm through his transformation from quasi-generic bundle of nerves to...well, read and see. This fic contains religious themes, mucho mucho violence, guns, strained familial ties, a crisis of faith, mystery, young cigarette smoking Barratt, a mouth-y more-than-meets-the-eye Fielding, not-quite-crossovers, references to different Boosh fandoms, references to other works and artists I find influential, Bible verses, religious debates, a sexy anti-hero named after an Arch Angel, and of course, graphic smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 00. The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet our befuddled protagonist during an interesting time in his life.

_”For what am I to myself without You, but a guide to my own downfall?”_  
\--Saint Augustine of Hippo  
  
 _I had been lying to my family for seven months or so. A month before, I lost my job as a copyeditor for a small magazine. An embarrassing fiasco beginning with public drunkenness and ending with me pissing on my boss’ desk chair and stealing 50 euros from his wallet. Needless to say, not my finest hour._  
  
 _I never told them. I couldn’t even bring myself to fabricate a less humiliating set of circumstances for my being asked to leave my place of employment. I guess I just didn’t want my father to extend that ever present offer of moving back home until I found another job. Didn’t want to meet his coal black eyes, full of barely concealed contempt at yet another of my failures; My mother in the background, backlit by the flickering television, her frail body curling in on itself, eyes full of the fog of confusion, another break in the chain that keeps her anchored to the real world._  
  
 _I took my boss’ money and went to the bookie’s. I won triple my bet. Last thing I remember, I took some of my winnings, bought two kebabs off a dodgy vendor and stumbled off into the night. The next morning I awoke on the grimy floor of Jack’s toilet, my face pressed to tiles, vomit in my hair and my stomach roiling with what I’m now sure was dog meat._  
  
 _Such is life. Or mine, at any rate._  
  
 _Amelia, Jack’s wife, poked me with a dainty toe, bright red lacquer shining on the nails, and asked in the sweetest voice when I thought I’d be done. She was kind enough to fix me a small fry up before sending me on my way, her face fresh and smelling of delicate rose soap. I remember thinking through the thick haze of my hangover that I wouldn’t mind having a wife like Amelia, if I were to have a wife. But I won’t._  
  
 _I had a girlfriend, whom I went back home to with my tail firmly tucked between my hind legs--a dog who’s been caught shitting on the carpet yet again. Her name is Jen. Petite and blonde, a thin ray of light stirring up dust. She must really love me. Or at least she did at the time. I could tell she was disappointed in me, but she helped clean me up and made me coffee. I only saw her kind smile falter once. On my threadbare settee, she pressed into my side and told me everything would be okay, but I knew she was wrong. Just like her too-soft and pliant body against my own._  
  
 _I sat there with the realization that everything had gone wrong growing in the pit of my stomach. I said nothing of this to her. Instead, I presented the money I won a few hours before and mumbled some vague apology._  
  
 _I didn’t drink too much after that, but I did continue to gamble. Gambling had always been a guilty pleasure for me, but was quickly becoming my only source of income. And not a very good one, either. Jen didn’t say anything when the electric company cut the power, but I could tell she wasn’t pleased. I don’t know why she stuck around as long as she did._  
  
 _I loved Jen. I really did. As much as I could possibly love any woman. She had been the first and only person to be so forgiving and understanding towards me since my mother started losing her grip. I couldn’t love her the way she really deserved. Couldn’t find it in myself to give that to her. For me, our relationship was more a comfortable, habitual indentured servitude to her more than anything. But she was kind and sweet and deserved, at the very least, a steady supply of food on the table and lights in the house._  
  
 _Which is why I decided to go down to Michael’s for a loan. I had heard of Michael from Jack, who heard of him from our mutual poker acquaintance Eddie. Eddie was a round little man whose blundering made even me look like a poor man’s James Bond. Judging from Eddie’s still intact knee caps, I figured taking a loan from Michael wasn’t too great a risk._  
  
 _“Why d’you wanna know?” Eddie asked, rubbing his glasses against his trouser leg--a nervous tic of his which told me it’d be safe to raise my bet._  
  
 _“Why do you wanna know?” I shot back at him, tossing a handful of crumpled bank notes into the centre of the table. I watched him fidget for a few more seconds as Jack called my bet. Eddie made to rip the glasses from his face once more, thought better of it, and scratched his stubble instead._  
  
 _“You got a biro on you?” he asked gruffly, pulling an empty book of matches towards him with a meaty fist. Jack leant in to supply his ever-present writing implement, and Eddie scribbled the address onto the flattened matchbook before pushing it over without so much as meeting my gaze. Fingers trembling, he threw in twice my bet._  
  
 _I scoffed at his dauntlessness, coughed to hide it. I called it. Jack folded._  
  
 _“Alright, lads. Let’s see ‘em.” Jack tilted his chin up, rubbing Eddie’s greasy fingerprints off his fountain pen with a small chamois._  
  
 _Eddie placed his cards on the stained table top with great care. Three of a kind. I sent my hand gliding gently down between us. A straight. All the air left Eddie’s body and he seemed to deflate. Jack banged his fist down hard onto the table, nearly knocking over his glass of rum and coke._  
  
 _“You bastard!” he shouted heartily at me, “I had a full house!”_  
  
 _I shrugged noncommittally, one shoulder up and then down as I reached for the kitty._  
  
 _The following afternoon was a Saturday, which Jen ended up having to work. I waited until she showered and left before rolling out of bed. I pulled on my pair of jeans from the night before, shoved my antiperspirant stick under each arm and gargled with Jen’s teeth-whitening mouthwash. I had made sure to tell Eddie to call this Michael guy and tell him I was looking for a loan. I had failed, however, to ask what the protocol was for this type of thing. Should I appear to only be in short-term trouble, or would it be more beneficial to appear desperate?_  
  
 _I examined myself closely in the mirror through dried flecks of toothpaste. There were circles under my eyes, but there wasn’t much I could do about that, short of digging through Jen’s cosmetics bag to see what I could come up with. Unlikely. I ran my fingers through my wispy brown curls. I needed a shower, but not badly. I had a little bit of growth on my jaw, but nothing near Grizzly-esque. I figured I struck a nice balance between needing the money and really needing the money. Satisfied, I double-checked my trouser pocket for the matchbook and left my flat._  
  
 _I was surprised to find the address led to an abandoned pub in Charlton. Looking back, I’m not sure, really, what I was expecting. I had been instructed by Eddie to go round to the back and knock on the rusty green door, which I did. The wait was short, and I found myself staring into the face of a surly looking bald man about twice the breadth of myself. “I...I’m here to see Michael.”_  
  
 _The man scowled at me for one long moment before pulling the door to, allowing me entrance. Slowly, I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. I was led to a back room, where sat Michael on a small, worn settee. He was an altogether unassuming man, but held himself with such confidence I stupidly felt as though I should bow or show some other sign of subordination. Thankfully, I didn’t._  
  
 _“Elias Grimm, yes?” He waved me over with a neatly manicured hand. I nodded silently, taking the seat he indicated across from him. Michael gestured to an ashtray on the small, low coffee table that sat between us. “Smoke?”_  
  
 _“Oh, yes. Thank you.” I fumbled my cigarette packet from my coat pocket and lit one with shaking fingers. We sat in silence for a long moment as I smoked, Michael regarding me with a diplomatic sort of air. Sunlight poured in through the slats in the boarded up windows, illuminating the highlights in his sandy hair._  
  
 _“Mr. Grimm,” Michael began, plucking a glass of water from the coffee table with a steady hand, “Let’s get on with this, yes? We’re both busy men, are we not?”_  
  
 _“Yeah, sure.” I sat up straighter, suddenly very aware of each of my limbs and the entirety of the space I was occupying._  
  
 _“How much are you looking to borrow?”_  
  
 _“Three thousand.”_  
  
 _He arched an eyebrow at me, retrieving a small Moleskine notebook from beside him on the settee. “Three thousand?” He repeated._  
  
 _“Yes. Er...unless that’s too much.”_  
  
 _“And how low would you be willing to bargain?” Michael smirked at me, clearly amused._  
  
 _“Two thousand four hundred and seventy five.” I cleared my throat. “Give or take.”_  
  
 _He laughed outright this time, a small breathy sound like a short series of hiccoughs. “That’s an incredibly specific amount of money.”_  
  
 _I felt my cheeks colour. “It’s the exact amount I’d need to get me through the next three months.” I muttered, half hoping he wouldn’t hear me._  
  
 _Michael sat back fully against the settee, tapping the notebook with his pen. “I see.” He looked down his nose at his lap and flicked a piece of detritus from his knee. “Have you ever borrowed money before, Mr. Grimm?”_  
  
 _“Not as such, no.”_  
  
 _I watched as Michael scribbled down a note. "You are to pay me three hundred, for a series of ten weeks. If a payment is missed, the price moves up to one thousand three hundred the next week."_  
  
 _"That's a sixty percent interest rate!"_  
  
 _"What other choice do you have, Mr. Grimm?" Michael leveled his eyes at me. He had a point, after all. I sighed heavily._  
  
 _"Fine. It's a deal."_  
  
 _Michael nodded at the bald monolith stood at the door over my shoulder, who produced a paper bag of money seemingly from nowhere. “Three grand,” he rumbled to Michael, passing the bag and returning to his position by the door. Michael unrolled the top of the bag and pulled from it a thick wad of cash. Slowly and meticulously, he counted each bank note aloud, laying them flat against his nicely pressed slacks. Laying the last note on the stack, he pulled a rubber band from his wrist and neatly bound the notes together._  
  
 _“Three grand.” He waved the wad of cash at me before dropping it deftly back inside the bag and rolled the top down carefully. The bag dangled from his fingertips between us, swaying back and forth gently. I reached out a tentative hand to retrieve it, and Michael snatched it from my grasp just as my fingers touched it. "There is, of course, one other thing."_  
  
 _"And that would be?" I sighed, slouching back into my chair. His cool, measured attitude was wearing on my already paper-thin nerves, and I could feel a stress headache coming on._  
  
 _"I'll need a way to get in contact with you, of course. For scheduling payments and such, you know."_  
  
 _"So my phone number, then?"_  
  
 _"Both home and mobile, yes." He dropped the bag on the sofa cushion beside him, retrieving once more his pen and notebook. The bridge of my nose pinched firmly between my thumb and forefinger, I rattled off the numbers to him in listless monotone. "And your home address?"_  
  
 _"For what?!" I snapped my head up and immediately regretted the velocity with which I did so--the action making my head throb._  
  
 _"Mr. Grimm. You're not an altogether unintelligent man. Surely you're not ignorant of, well, what could happen to someone in your position if you owed someone in, say, my position a certain amount of money. I assumed you had already considered each possible outcome of our arrangement. If not, then consider them now. And if you're not sure you're comfortable with the price you'd pay for slighting me--or know for a fact you won't be able to keep up with payments--well. You are certainly free to leave right now. Sans the three grand you'll need to keep your piddly life afloat, that is."_  
  
 _Honestly, looking back now, I'm not sure if he actually called my life 'piddly', or if I misheard due to the incredible pressure welling up in my skull. I had no reason, at the time, to believe he would so openly antagonize me during our first meeting, but I could swear--_  
  
 _"Fine," I bit out through gritted teeth, and gave him my address. In a matter of minutes, I was stumbling out of the abandoned pub and into the mid-autumn sunlight with a crinkly sack of money tucked inside my coat, weighing heavy as a stone tied round a drowning man's neck._  
  
 _****************_  
  
 _The first month was rocky. I had pissed away a grand making longshot bets and used a goodly portion of the remaining two paying Michael off each week. I was cutting it pretty close when I made a wild, drunken bet on a horse on its last leg. But I won a grand. It was enough to keep the hounds at bay. For a while, at least._  
  
 _****************_  
  
 _I'm fairly sure Jen knew, in her own way, what I was up to. Or more accurately that I was up to no good. That's not to say she somehow intrinsically knew I'd went to meet a loan shark, but she knew something dodgy was going on. I thanked God her women's intuition was nowhere near as finely tuned as my mother's was before she started losing her grip. That woman always seemed to know not only how many biscuits you stole from the tin, but what varieties, where you hid them, and how many you managed to eat before she caught you out._  
  
 _It was a strain on our already tenuous relationship. The less I told her about the money that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, the more distant she became. I can't really say that I blame her. She started sleeping on the sofa, or at a friend's house. Physical affection dwindled. She made thinly veiled threats of leaving for good. And all the while, I kept my head down and barreled through. I was doing this mostly for her benefit, after all. She was a beautiful, kind woman who deserved the best of what I could offer her. And so I carried on. I shuffled money to and fro, occasionally made a good bet or won a hand at my bi-weekly poker games with Jack and Eddie._  
  
 _Things weren't great, but they were moving forward at the very least. I thought I had it all under control._  
  
 _Until the calls started coming in._  
  
 _***************_  
  
 _The first one came round noon towards the end of September. I awoke to the sound of my mobile buzzing happily on the nightstand where I leave it every night before bed. It was a grey afternoon, pissing down rain, and I was in bed nursing a monumental hangover. The guys, in lieu of a few hands of cards, had decided I needed a night out to get properly shitfaced. I rolled gracelessly onto my side and, neglecting to put on my glasses, failed to check the ID before answering the phone._  
  
 _"Arrgh?"_  
  
 _"Charming as ever, aren't you?" A lilting female voice with a Yorkshire accent chided gently on the other end of the connection._  
  
 _"UGH." I groaned, swinging my self into a sitting position too quickly, last night's curry sloshing dangerously in my stomach._  
  
 _"Now, now, Eli. Remember your manners. Mum would be so disappointed in you if she could hear you. And weren't totally bonkers."_  
  
 _"Damn it, Katherine." I cursed, pushing my glasses clumsily onto my face. I could hear her chuckling as I reached for my cigarettes, shoving one between my chapped lips._  
  
 _"So surly." She tutted._  
  
 _"Did you ring just to reprimand me for being a surly heathen, or is there a happier occasion, Ms. Post?"_  
  
 _On the other end, my sister--thirteen years my junior--sighed. "Dad wants to know if you're coming round for Christmas."_  
  
 _"I...ugh. Kitty." I spat out the old pet name I used to call her, without really realizing it. The almost deafening absence of sound on the other end of the line was the only response. I sighed, rubbing at my bristly face with the heel of my hand. I curled my toes against the wood floor, attempting to get some feeling back into them. "How insistent is he being this time?"_  
  
 _"Well, you know Dad. He'd never say anything outright. But...I think he's worried that," her voice taking on a watery quality that made my insides dip low in my torso before swelling up into my throat, "...that this might be Mum's last Christmas here with us."_  
  
 _I knew it was coming before she even said it, but that didn't make hearing it any easier. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye--myself in the mirror above Jen's dresser, looking tired beyond my mere thirty years. How long had it been since I'd been back home? Sometime during Uni. Seemed a lifetime ago, as I sat and thought about it._  
  
 _"I don't know, Kitty."_  
  
 _There was a long moment of silence that made me suspicious that our call had been dropped, and then--_  
  
 _"Fine." The line went dead in my ear._  
  
 _**************_  
  
 _The second call came late one afternoon. It had been a fairly good day. I'd won some money the night before and paid both Michael and the rent, and Jen was incredibly tactile. She was curled into my side, her mouth at my ear, her hand down my trousers, when my mobile rang. Distracted by Jen's chewing on my ear, I answered before checking who it was._  
  
 _"Yeah?"_  
  
 _"That any way to talk to your father, son?"_  
  
 _I panicked, pushing Jen off me with more force than strictly necessary. "Dad!"_  
  
 _"Aye. Surprised you can even recognize m'voice, it's been so long since you've come round." I rolled my eyes. Whether actively or passively, my father is the most aggressive man I had ever known._  
  
 _"Yeah, Dad, I know. I'm sorry, I--"_  
  
 _"Don't worry about apologies, Elias. I've no use for them. I'm just calling on b'half of your sister. You remember Katherine. Brought her home when you were nigh on thirteen years?"_  
  
 _"Yes, Dad, I--"_  
  
 _"She's really wanting you to come up for Christmas, son."_  
  
 _"I know, Dad, it's just...I've been so busy lately." Jen opened her mouth to call me on my lie and I held my hand up to her as though I were halting a train. "Work has been hectic."_  
  
 _"I see."_  
  
 _"How...how's Mum?"_  
  
 _My father sighed heavily on the other end of the line. Next to me, Jen suddenly became very interested in the sheer, pale pink varnish covering her squared off nails. "Not very well, m'afraid. She's days where she won't eat anything a’tall. Asked about you the other day, though."_  
  
 _"Did she?" I sounded surprised even to myself._  
  
 _"She did. Thought you were still living at home, though. Asked why you were so late from school. Told 'er you were in town with that lad you'd always pal around with. What was his name… Bobby?"_  
  
 _"Billy," I supplied._  
  
 _"Aye, him. Seemed to keep her from asking questions."_  
  
 _Thank God, I thought. Billy and I had flirted with the idea of being… more than friends when we were old enough to be interested, but too young and scared to really do anything about it._  
  
 _"Hold on a minute, Eli. Your sister wants a word." I heard the sound of the phone being passed between them before my sister's tinny voice chimed in my ear._  
  
 _"Wait a sec," she said in a low voice. I heard the sound of light foot steps, a door softly clicking shut. "Okay. Sorry, didn't want him hearing. He convince you yet, or do I have to guilt you, too? 'Cause I could go on for hours about how horribly dull it is here without you."_  
  
 _I knew, of course, by 'horribly dull' she actually meant 'a living nightmare'. "Kitty," I sighed, rubbing roughly at my brow. In the glowing light of the TV screen, I could see the look of confusion of Jen's face--she'd never heard me call my sister anything but 'kid' or Kathrine before._  
  
 _"Please? Just this once. I'll never ask you to come round again."_  
  
 _"Only because you'll be going off to Uni next year."_  
  
 _"Maybe."_  
  
 _"Katherine, I--"_  
  
 _"Please, Eli. Please." She sounded so much smaller than her seventeen years, and yet too weary as well. Foolish of me, to assume she was impervious to the same erosion that had worn me down well beyond my years._  
  
 _"Okay. But I want it on the record I'm only doing this for you and Mum."_  
  
 _"Noted. As if there were any question." A thin ray of sunshine broke through the chilly gloom her voice held previously, and when they line went dead in my ear, it almost sounded like a victory anthem._  
  
 _****************_  
  
 _The old homestead looked exactly as it did when I left. I don't know why I found this fact shocking--Lord knows my father's too old to do any work on it himself, and too proud to hire anyone else to take care of it, either. The robin's egg blue paint had faded at least two shades, and in the cloudy gloom, it took on the hue of old grey wool. The paint was peeling in several places, the gutters ugly with rust. My mother's once prized hedges were long overgrown, creeping in on everything around them, threatening to smother and ensnare. From the driveway, I could see little white buds, petals closed tightly in on themselves--Morning Glories waiting for the sun to emerge from the thick cover of clouds._  
  
 _I stood there for a long moment, taking it all in. I felt an urge to run at a cellular level. My mind raced with memories; my scalp prickled. The scar on the knuckle of my middle finger, right hand, suddenly itched. I took a deep breath and marched resolutely up the gravel drive. My every exhalation was a white plume of fog, my body invaded by the kind of damp cold that penetrates right down to the bone, seeps into the marrow. Reaching the door, I kicked the corner of the welcome mat up with the toe of my trainer, only to find the old brass key missing. The door swung open before I could even knock, my sister greeting me with an almost pitying, sardonic smile._  
  
 _"I took that key up to my room when you left for Uni, you dolt."_  
  
 _"Move. I'm freezing my face off out here." I pushed past her into the tiny foyer, nearly clipping my hip on the table housing a rarely used key bowl and my mother's dusty bric-a-brac. The silvery eye of a china kitten winked up at me in the weak afternoon light wandering through the open door, loitering against the peeling floral wallpaper. "He's really let this place go to seed, hasn't he?" I asked softly, from the corner of my mouth._  
  
 _"Mm." Katherine shut the door tightly against the cold. She rested her back against it and crossed her arms over her chest, regarding me with a kind of serene mirth that was wholly my mother. "Not that I much care any more. Few more months and I'm outta here. So long Leeds, hello...wherever."_  
  
 _"You haven't decided, yet, have you?" I knew we should probably begin moving into the house proper, but my feet felt glued to the floor--my legs heavy as lead._  
  
 _Katherine, still against the door, picked at her chipping black nail varnish and shrugged. "I'm young. I'm cute. I have money saved. I could do anything. Go anywhere." Her tone, I noted, contained a brightness that didn't spread to her brilliant green eyes--again, something she'd inherited from our mother._  
  
 _"Whoa there," I said softly, dropping my suitcase by my side. I closed the gap between us with two strides, and scooped her tiny frame into my arms. My lips pressed a whisper into the hair hanging above her ear, "He's already gotten to two of us. Don't let him affect you, too, okay? Don't. One of us has gotta make it out of here whole, okay?"_  
  
 _Katherine pulled back, her eyes shimmering softly with a thin veil of tears. She looked as though she were about to say something, her mouth just beginning to form a word, when my father's voice rang out from somewhere deeper in the house._  
  
 _"Son? That you?" His voice, always gruff even in what passes as tender moments in my family, was tinged with aggravation._  
  
 _"Yeah, sorry. Be right there." I called back, dropping my arms away from Katherine as though her skin had burned me through my thick layers of wool and tweed. She wiped hastily at her eyes, mumbling something about it being a good job she hadn't bothered with makeup. I gave her an apologetic look before grasping the handle of my suitcase, making my way through the tight, winding corridors. When I was younger, I used to close my eyes, my hand on the thick wooden walls, and follow a wall from one room into another, just to see where I'd wind up. At school, I used to tell the other children I lived in a maze inside a tree. Needless to say, I didn't make many friends._  
  
 _I found my father in the kitchen, tinkering with an ancient toaster, prodding at its mechanics with a screwdriver. A thin film of sweat clung to the circle of exposed skin of his crown, and he sat in a threadbare vest and old, worn slacks, his back to a space heater in the corner. He wiped distractedly at his bald spot, his eyes--much like my own, the colour of strong tea--lifted towards me, and he greeted me with a grunt before returning to his task._  
  
 _"Right, then," Katherine's voice sounded from the kitchen door, "I'll help you get your stuff up to your room."_  
  
 _"He knows where his room is, Katherine."_  
  
 _We turned, regarding our father with weary surprise. Just when you think the man can't get any ruder, he up and surprises you. We said nothing in response, Katherine simply tugging at the arm of my coat, pulling me away from the too-hot and too-close kitchen. "Just a few more months," I heard her mutter to herself. We turned tight corners, attempting to make our way to the staircase without knocking anything over. We climbed the narrow stairs in silence, the faces of past generations lining the wall, watching over our slow ascent._  
  
 _Down the hall, we approached the open door to Katherine's room, her laptop open on the bed, the screen softly glowing. Her mobile buzzed happily, and she reached out hastily to shut her door as we passed. "Mum's having a little kip, otherwise I'd take you in to see her."_  
  
 _"It's fine." I slowed, the door to my old bedroom looming before us. Katherine paused, her hand on the rusty brass knob. She turned her head a fraction, her profile just visible past her halo of wild, dyed-red curls._  
  
 _"It's different now, you know. You remember, right?" She asked softly. She was referring to the redecorating she and our mother did a few years ago. She was only a wee thing back then, twelve and freckly. She thought maybe if she and Mum had a project to work on together, it might somehow help. It didn't._  
  
 _I nodded my head. "I remember."_  
  
 _"Okay. Good." Her hand turned the knob, swung the door open. The room, much to my surprise, was complete. Or it was as best as I could tell, anyhow. It definitely looked like two different people had decorated it at the same time--just not in unison. I could pick out my mother's influence straight away--all soft pinks and creams, delicate floral patterns. Katherine's contribution had been a flurry of neon colours and about a yard of brightly patterned sari fabric draped across the bed. The string of chinese lanterns hung above the bed had to have been her idea as well._  
  
 _I grasped her by the shoulder, pulled her to my chest. "It's perfect, Kitty. You did well." I kissed her temple. When she pulled back from the embrace, I saw a blush had crept into her round cheeks. The only trait she and I share--we're both so unaccustomed to praise, even the smallest bit of it is mortally embarrassing._  
  
 _"Yeah, well...right. I'll leave you to it, then." She stumbled backwards away from me, apologetic grin on her face. "Dinner's same time it's always been."_  
  
 _"What's the rush? I thought it was 'horribly dull' here without me."_  
  
 _"We'll catch up, Eli. S'just I'm busy is all." She scratched uncomfortably at her shoulder._  
  
 _"What, you hiding a boy in your room?" I joked. The colour drained from her face for a moment before returning with a vengeance--her face as bright red as a tomato. "Kathrine!" I scolded, "Don't let Dad catch you."_  
  
 _"He'd kill me, wouldn't he?"_  
  
 _"Or send you off to a monastery. And I'm not really sure which would be worse, to be honest."_  
  
 _She smiled, bounded back down the hallway and gave me a rib-crushing hug. "Missed you, Goose." The shock of hearing my old pet name actually physically jolted me. She was gone before I could respond, her bedroom door clicking shut behind her. I sighed, hefting my suitcase back up. My feet felt heavy as I dragged them over the floor of my old room. I chucked my suitcase into the corner and dug my cigarettes out of my pocket. Smoking isn't technically allowed in my parents' house, so I leaned out the window to light up. A flash of light caught my attention and I turned my head._  
  
 _There, running across the lawn, was what looked like a kid around Katherine's age. He ran from the far corner of the house, where one of Kat's windows is located, the sunlight glinting off a spiked leather cuff he wore on his wrist. He ran fast, his head turned over his shoulder, no regard for where he was going or what he might run into. His face tilted up a fraction and caught the fading light, a wide grin on his face--the cat that ate the canary._  
  
 _And that was the first time I saw him._


	2. 01. The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the love interest and awkward flirtation is had by all.

_”Whatever it is you’re seeking won’t come in the form you’re expecting.”_  
\--Haruki Murakami  
  
*****  
 _"All things truly wicked start from innocence."_  
\--Ernest Hemingway  
  
Eli wakes in the middle of the night, his throat dry. He had been dreaming of his childhood--his father's sermons, his mother's best Sunday dresses, the special perfume she'd wear to church. The scent lingers for a moment after he has awoken, the too-sweet smell underpinned with the scent of ethanol making him thirsty. He pulls on his thick dressing gown, belting it tightly round his middle. The floor beneath his feet is cold, hurting the bones of his toes. He tries to remember the creakiest spots in the floor, sidestepping them. He leaves his door open behind him, freezes when he sees Katherine's door open and a boy--the kid--step out.  
  
The boy leaves Katherine’s room with such ease and confidence an outside observer would assume it were his own. Eli catches him effortlessly doing up his zip with one hand while the other silently shuts the door behind him.  
  
With this closer view of him, Eli can see he's exactly the kind of kid he can envision a girl like his sister sleeping with as an act of rebellion. Slightly older than her--early to mid twenties--tight jeans, shirt advertising some band Eli has never heard of, leather jacket. The stupidest hair he has ever seen in his life clashing almost audibly with features as sharp as steak knives. Eli thinks he’s almost beautiful, for a bloke, but still identifiable as a man all the same--just broad enough in the shoulders and narrow enough at the hips.  
  
He spots Eli, frozen in the mouth of the hallway, and tosses a sly “Alright?” at him with an easy grin. Eli stands awkwardly at the threshold, unsure as what to say to him. He finally settles on “Err...yeah.”  
  
“You’re Kat’s brother, right? Elliot?” He steps closer to Eli, his scruffy white cowboy boots making not a sound on the carpet.  
  
“Elias,” he corrects, feeling his cheeks pinken. “Or Eli.”  
  
“Elias, Eli.” He rolls Eli’s name around in his mouth a few times, repeating it over and over as though it were a word plucked from a foreign language. By the fifth repetition, his name drips as thick and sweet from the kid’s tongue as honey, and sends a pleasant shiver down Eli’s spine. The kid's smile broadens. “My name’s Gabe.”  
  
“Gabe. Gabriel?” Eli tries to make Gabe’s name sound as inviting and attractive in his mouth as his own had in Gabe’s. It takes him a moment, but he finally realizes he’s openly flirting with what very well could be his younger sister’s boyfriend and feels his face practically catch fire. He coughs awkwardly.  
  
Gabe laughs, his mirthful eyes shining in the moonlight. “How long you in for?”  
  
“About a week.” Eli realizes there is no safe place for him to rest his eyes. Gabe’s cheeks are still flushed with exertion, his lips still bitten red. His clothing is rumpled and he has a serious case of sex hair.  
  
“I’ll see you around then, yeah?” Gabe asks, brushing past him. Eli’s hand shoots out before he can stop himself, gently grasping Gabe’s wrist.  
  
“Do...do you want a glass of water or something?” he stammers.  
  
Gabe’s eyes flick from where Eli is grasping him up to his eyes. The little angel on Eli’s shoulder tells him to let the kid go, let him walk right out the door. The devil, though, tells him to keep holding on. To pull him closer, run his thumb over the skin of his wrist. Press into him, teeth at his neck--  
  
“You look like you could use it about now.” he mumbles, letting Gabe’s wrist fall from his grasp.  
  
Gabe grins, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. “Yeah. Cheers, mate.”  
  
Eli can practically feel Gabe’s eyes boring into him as the kid follows behind him to the kitchen. “Gotta say, mate,” Gabe’s voice sounds behind him, “This ain’t exactly what I was expecting when I saw you in the hall.”  
  
“What were you expecting, then?” Eli asks, his back still to Gabe. He retrieves a glass from the cupboard to the left of the sink and fills it up.  
  
“For you to pull the Older Brother Card and beat the piss outta me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t. Just surprising s’all.”  
  
Eli shrugs and turns to pass Gabe the glass. Gabe raises it in thanks and brings it to his lips, taking long draughts, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Eli looks down at his bare toes against the cool tile of the kitchen floor.  
  
“Yeah, well. I figure she’s seventeen now. She’s old enough to know what she’s doing. And if not, she’s old enough to know to learn from it.” Eli pauses, scratches the arch of his left foot with the big toe of his right, and adds, “I hope.”  
  
This earns another chuckle from Gabe. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her, mate. She seems to know what she wants. She told me when we first met that she weren’t interested in being a couple, which suits me fine.”  
  
“Right.” Eli coughs awkwardly.  
  
“Probably not the best topic of discussion to be havin’ with you, right?” Gabe looks to be fighting back a smirk, which makes Eli’s own lips quirk a bit.  
  
“Probably not, no.”  
  
“Right.” Gabe drains the rest of the glass’ contents and leans dangerously close to Eli--their bodies mere inches apart as Gabe reaches behind Eli to put his now empty glass in the sink. And just like that, he’s back to where he stood before, as if the invasion of personal space never even happened. Perhaps it didn’t in Gabe’s mind, Eli thinks. Perhaps he is just the kind of person who doesn’t put much stock in the concept of personal space. Maybe everything is communal in his mind.  
  
“I better be goin’, then,” Gabe says suddenly, digging his keys from his jacket pocket. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Eli nods, watching as Gabe turns on his heel and walks through the kitchen door, disappearing around the corner and down the hall. “See you around.”  
  
****  
  
Eli hangs out the open window of his old bedroom, the cool night air soothing against his skin. He brings his cigarette up to his lips and takes a long drag, his eyes falling closed. He’s always thankful for moments like these--his brain quiet for once, the night air still, nothing to worry about. He opens his eyes slowly, a long ribbon of smoke twisting its way out from between his chapped lips.  
  
His mother had chirped at him all day from her rocking chair, more lucid than she’d been in weeks, demanding to know if he was preparing dinner the way she’d always done herself. An encouraging but exhausting experience. His father, on the other hand, had gotten angry, insisting that the responsibility of preparing dinner should fall to Katherine. Eli gritted his teeth but remained silent.  
  
Sometimes he wondered if his mother’s lapses with sanity weren’t a blessing of sorts. Or a subconscious choice on her part, once she realized exactly what kind of man she had ended up marrying.  
  
Eli’s train of thought is quickly derailed by headlights coming down the road--headlights which cut off when they get close to the house. He snatches his glasses from the table beside him and shoves them onto his face. In the faint light, he can see a beat up Ford the colour of cigarette smoke pulling into the drive. The driver’s side door opens even before the engine shuts off, and Gabe emerges from it, his boots and skin illuminated by the moon. Gabe’s eyes find Eli’s face almost immediately, and smiles up at him. Eli can’t help but to smile back.  
  
Eli watches as Gabe trudges up the lawn, his footsteps crunching softly against the frosted grass beneath them. He’s mildly surprised to see Gabe climb the lattice leading up to Eli’s bedroom window, his rosy-cheeked face appearing beneath him in a matter of seconds.  
  
“You’re still awake.” Gabe sounds pleasantly surprised.  
  
Eli shrugs, pitching his spent cigarette over Gabe’s shoulder and onto the lawn, where it fizzles out. “Couldn’t sleep.”  
  
“You gonna invite me in, or just let me hang here ‘til my fingers give out?” Gabe asks, grin still firmly planted on his face.  
  
“Oh, uh, right.” Eli shifts awkwardly and stands, holding his hand out to help Gabe in through his window. Gabe takes his hand, his fingers freezing against Eli’s slightly sweaty palm.  
  
“Cheers, mate.” Planted firmly on his own feet, Gabe shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans to warm them, casting a glance around Eli’s bedroom. “S’nice.”  
  
“Better than my flat.” Eli nods, sitting down on the corner of his bed. “I thought you’d be here to see Kat.”  
  
“Naw, I was just driving by. Dunno why, really.” Eli watches as Gabe spins on his heel and gracefully falls to a sitting position at his feet, facing him. “Just one of those restless nights, y’know?”  
  
“I do,” Eli nods again. “Having one of those myself.”  
  
“No offense, mate, but you look like you’ve had a lot of those. Like, every night, to be exact.”  
  
Eli brings his fist up to his mouth, knuckles digging into his upper lip in an attempt to shove his laughter back down his throat. Gabe kicks him gently and playfully in the shin.  
  
“Let it out, Eli.” Gabe grins up at him.  
  
“Shh. My father catches you up here with me and he’ll jump to the wrong conclusion. Beat the piss out of both of us.”  
  
“Your dad’s a bit of a nutter, yeah?” It’s only phrased as a question.  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“Kat said he was a deacon or summat.” Gabe rubs at a smudge of mud on the toe of his boot.  
  
“He was when I was younger. Really young. When I was about five years old, he had a bit of a...crisis of faith, I’d guess you could say. Swung to a different branch of Christianity. From Catholic to Baptist in the blink of an eye. Started up his own church, as a matter of fact. Only had a small following, but was pretty successful at it.” Eli digs his cigarettes out the coat draped over the bedpost and makes a big deal out of fiddling with his lighter. “Things got kind of weird after that...” he mumbles, trailing off.  
  
“You ain’t gotta talk about it.” Gabe backpedals before chuckling softly, “‘Swung to a different branch of Christianity’. I like that. Which way do you swing?”  
  
There’s a gently teasing tone in Gabe’s voice that makes Eli think the double entendre is fully intentional. Eli rises to his feet, glancing down at the man below him. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Eli twitchy and nervous. Eli crosses to the open window, leaning out of it once more as he lights another cigarette. He realizes an inordinate amount of time has passed since Gabe asked his teasing double-sided question, and he doesn’t know quite how to answer either, so he just goes with the truth, answering both in one fell swoop.  
  
“I’m not sure.”  
  
“S’a big question. Almost too big to fit in your head. Ain’t that a pity? That brains have to be so weak they need somethin’ like a skull to keep them safe? If brains were stronger, they could be encased in somethin’ more flexible. Then we’d be able to fit the big questions in there.”  
  
Eli knows exactly what Gabe is attempting to say, and it scares him slightly. So he says, “What are you on about?”  
  
It’s Gabe’s turn to shrug now, his back still to Eli, having not moved from his spot on the floor. “I dunno, mate. I was always pretty shit with words. They say actions speak louder, anyway.”  
  
And it’s there again, that teasing tone that’s almost an accusation, and Eli realizes this kid can see through him like a pane of glass and it raises all the hair on his arms.  
  
“And what about you?” Eli asks, perhaps a shade too gruffly. Gabe just takes it in stride, though.  
  
“I probably wanna talk about my family even less than you do.”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
Gabe stands, his limbs unfolding nimbly. “I gotta go. Might be back tomorrow, though. Maybe.” Eli watches him run his fingers through his choppy, dark auburn hair.  
  
“Yeah, alright.” Eli moves to the side, allowing Gabe better access to the window. Gabe squeezes Eli’s shoulder as he slides through, his blunt nails digging into the flesh beneath his worn pyjama top. His jagged face disappears into the darkness beyond him and Eli is suddenly left on his own.  
  
*******  
  
"What's the story with your mother?" Gabe asks in a cautious whisper. He's leaning out of the window next to Eli, watching him smoke. Their bodies are pressed tightly together in the small space. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. It's the most distracted Eli can remember being in his whole life, which is perhaps why he answers.  
  
"The doctors said early onset dementia." He blows a long ribbon of smoke into the still night air. A fine dusting of snow glitters up at them, tiny crystals throwing the light from the window back at them in diamond glimmers.  
  
"The doctors said?" Gabe parrots back at him. "But you don't believe that?"  
  
Eli shakes his head, taking a deeper pull off his cigarette. "No."  
  
"Look, mate, tell me to butt out if you wanna, I know it ain't any of my business. But...why don't you believe them?" His voice is soft, gentled with guarded curiosity. He keeps his eyes straight ahead of him, staring down the treeline like he's interrogating each pine and evergreen there.  
  
"Grief does strange things to people." Eli shrugs, adjusting the collar of his dressing gown, the chill of the night suddenly seeping through him.  
  
"What's she grieving for?"  
  
"The life she wanted. The one she thought was promised to her. Didn't know she was marrying a madman. Hell, maybe she didn't. Maybe he wasn't always...the way he is. But..." Eli trails off, shrugging again. He pitches his spent cigarette out into the snow, the ember winking up at them for a second before sputtering out.  
  
"Did you know she loved you before...y'know."  
  
"Yeah. Never had any doubts about it."  
  
"What was that like?" Gabe asks, voice almost inaudible.  
  
"What was what like?"  
  
"Knowing for certain your mother loves you."  
  
Eli doesn't know how to answer, doesn't know what to say to the clear implications of Gabe's question. In lieu of saying anything, he squeezes Gabe's shoulder affectionately, letting his fingers linger for a moment.  
  
****  
  
“Wait, ‘ang on. You have a girlfriend?”  
  
Gabe is lying on his back across the bonnet of his car, attempting to soak up the warmth from the sun’s weak rays. Eli sits gingerly above the right headlight, his feet flat on the ground below, supporting most of his weight.  
  
“What? I’m highly desirable, I’ll have you know.” Eli kicks at a clump of grass with the toe of his filthy trainers.  
  
“Naw, s’not that, mate. I just...I dunno. M’sorry. I’m a prick.”  
  
“No argument here.”  
  
Gabe gently kicks Eli’s thigh with the side of his boot. Eli glances at him over his shoulder, his eyes lingering for a second too long on the exposed bit of midriff, following the trail of surprisingly thick, dark hair from his navel to the waistband of the pants just visible over the top of his jeans. Eli's eyes flicker back up to Gabe's face and discovers he's been caught out. Blushing, he turns away.  
  
"What's she like, then?" Gabe asks quietly.  
  
"Nice."  
  
"Nice?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How long you've been together, then?"  
  
"Four years."  
  
"Four years and all you can say about her is that she's nice?"  
  
"Well, what do you want to know?" Eli turns towards Gabe more fully, taking in the confused look on his face.  
  
"I dunno. Her favourite food, what music she likes, how old is she, what she looks like. Whatever, mate. S'just curious is all."  
  
"Sesame chicken, Top 40, a year younger than myself, a few inches shorter than yourself, blue eyes, blonde, full lips."  
  
"Okay, then."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Gabe slides down the hood like rain and pools next to Eli. He nudges Eli in the side and raises his eyebrows. Eli sighs, retrieving the flask from the right inside pocket at the breast of his coat and passes it to him. "She the one?" He asks between sips.  
  
"What one?"  
  
"The one. Y'know. The one you wanna spend the rest of your life with."  
  
Eli presses a cigarette between his lips and considers the question. From the corner of his eye, he watches Gabe's adam's apple bob as he takes another swig. Finally, after a long moment, Eli says almost under his breath, "No. No she's not."  
  
"Why ain't you left her, then?"  
  
"Habit?"  
  
"You askin' me or tellin' me?" Gabe laughs.  
  
"I don't know. I mean...I do love her, in a way. And I know if I left her, it'd be weird to come home every day and not see her face. But...I don't know." Eli shrugs, taking a deeper pull off his cigarette.  
  
"You ain't happy."  
  
"I'm not _un_ happy, either."  
  
"That ain't good enough, mate. You gotta do the thing that makes you happiest. Life's like petrol."  
  
"Petrol?!" Eli laughs with a lungful of smoke, causing a fit that's half laughter, half smoker's cough and fully horrible sounding.  
  
Gabe grins, patting Eli on the back. "I get confused if I don't talk in car terms."  
  
"So, expensive and smelly, then?" Eli asks with tears in his eyes, finally getting his breath back.  
  
"Nah, mate. Finite resource, innit?" Gabe states, sliding off the bonnet.  
  
And Eli, for his part, simply gapes after him.


	3. 02. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things really begin to unravel.

_"I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."_  
\--Oscar Wilde  
  
  
 _  
The first call was one I had been expecting for quite some time. Gabe and I were chatting idly in his car, watching the sun move from east to west, killing each hour that passed without an ounce of remorse. My phone vibrated between my winter layers as I passed my flask to Gabe. I checked the ID; Jen.  
  
"Hello, sweetheart."  
  
"Eli," her voice was urgent, but tired, "I...I wanted to wait to do this--just until you got back, but I just...I can't."  
  
"Jen? What's wrong?" I sat up straighter, gripping the armrest.  
  
"Things haven't been great lately, Eli, and I don't see them getting any better. You can't tell me you haven't noticed." I stayed silent. "Dammit, Eli." She sighed. I could hear things being moved around in the background. "Like I said, I wanted to wait to do this, but I just...I couldn't. I can't do this any more. You leave at all hours, come home smelling of a brewery. You lost your job and yet you keep bringing in money from God knows where. You don't talk to me---" she broke off, voice in danger of rising.  
  
I heard a muffled female voice in the background, Jen responding with a, "No, that's not mine. Put it back," and then something shattering in the distance.  
  
"That's Janet, then." I sighed. Jen's sister never did care for me.  
  
"She's helping me pack my things."  
  
"Helping is an interesting word for it."  
  
Jen sighed heavily, "I'll be at Jan's," and then, so softly I almost didn't catch it; "...as if you care."  
  
"Of course I care, Jen!" My voice was louder than I meant it to be, coming out in a great boom. From the corner of my eye, I saw Gabe turn his head toward the window, suddenly becoming very interested in the nearest tree. "Everything I've done these past few months I've done for you. And it hasn't been easy, either. Oh, no. But I did it. Because I love you. I know it probably doesn't mean much now, but it's the truth. I'm just shit at showing it. I...I was supposed to provide for you and I failed. That wasn't easy on me, to see us struggling. Everything I did, I did for you--for us. I can understand if you want to leave me, I can, but don't you dare say I didn't care. Because I did. And I still do."  
  
Silence on the line. And then, Jen's small, watery voice. "Goodbye, Eli. I'll tell Jan not to break any more of your things." And the line went dead. I turned my mobile off, threw it forcefully into the back seat and lit a cigarette. Gabe turned his body toward me, his eyes wide and unreadable.  
  
"Eli?"  
  
"What?"  
  
He cocked his head and extended his hand, offering me my own flask of whiskey. "Looks like you need this, mate."  
  
I nearly laughed. I took the flask off him, gulping half of it down in one. "Looks like I'm single, then." I kept my eyes steady before me, my eyes trained on the windscreen. Gabe made a small sound of acknowledgement, but otherwise kept uncharacteristically quiet. The radio was dialed down low, some new wave instrumental playing on endlessly.  
  
"You really did love her, didn't you?" he asked suddenly, startling me.  
  
"I did, yeah. Best as I could, anyway."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
Silence once more. The sky spat a half-hearted flurry of snowflakes against the windscreen, each crystal of frost melting as it made contact. The night trundled on around us, oblivious to our perception of it, its effect on us. I felt drained, the heat from the vents and the tune from the speakers lulling me into torpor. The longer we sat there, the more I felt rooted to the spot. Soon, my eyelids drooped, the seat beneath me giving way slowly, until I was sinking. Sinking.  
  
I awoke with a start--the feel of cool fingertips brushing a stray curl off my forehead. I opened my eyes to Gabe's tired face, his eyes rimmed red. While unconscious, our bodies seemed to have drifted towards each other, stretched over the centre console, shoulders and temples pressed together--reverse plate tectonics. Through the confusion of first waking, I felt the tip of his index finger trace the length of my jaw. He pointed at the dash to the clock; it read midnight.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Eli." He said softly, his breath still smelling faintly of whiskey. He turned in his seat, facing the window, the bottom of the steering wheel just above his jutting hipbone.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Gabe."_  
  
*****  
  
It's a rare day of clarity for his mother--one of those days where the fog of confusion has lifted from her face, and even if she does keep quiet as a church mouse, Eli can tell by the absence of the buffed apple sheen in her eyes that she knows who and where she is. He sits next to her on the small, slightly dusty settee, watching her knit. Her needles move effortlessly, hooking and pulling thick, wooly yarn. Her face is creased in concentration, her mouth set in a firm line.  
  
"I'd've thought you'd be out with friends by now," she said suddenly, her sweet voice rusty with disuse.  
  
The sound of her voice--so sudden--shocks him into momentary silence. "Most of my friends moved away, Mum, remember? After uni?"  
  
His mother leans in close, a conspiratory glint in her eyes. "If you want to go spend time with that boyfriend of yours, I won't tell your father."  
  
Eli's jaw falls open, his mind goes blank, and then suddenly it's like a bomb has detonated inside his head and a thousand thoughts hit him at once. "Boyfriend?!" he whispers back, leaning in even further, "What are you...do you mean Gabe? Because he and I--"  
  
"Gabe?" His mother shakes her head like there's a bluebottle trapped inside it. "No, no. That boy of yours. Billy. That's his name. Yes, fine boy, Billy."  
  
 _Okay,_ Eli thinks, _she knows who and where she is, but not exactly_ when _she is. She thinks I'm still in school._ "No, Mummy. Billy and I were never...it wasn't like that."  
  
"Oh, but you had eyes for him, though," she states matter-of-factly, nodding her head solemnly. "Oh, you were sweet on that boy."  
  
"How--how did you know that?"  
  
She cocks an eyebrow at him, the fine line of hair peeking at him over the rim of her spectacles. "A mother knows, Elias," she pats his hand lovingly, "A mother knows."  
  
Eli swallows hard, watching her return her attention back to her knitting. He feels as though he's swallowed a pound of kitty litter. "You...you wouldn't mind? You know, if...if he and I were together?"  
  
She turns her head toward him just a fraction, the malnourished light of the late December sun catching in the lenses of her glasses, her eyes flashing like the high beams of a lorry. The shoulder nearest to him moves up and then down, a quick shrug. "You're my son."  
  
"Yeah," Eli croaks back, tears choking him, threatening to fall. "Yeah, I am."  
  
********  
  
 _I'd love to be able to say truthfully the last distressing call I received that week came from Jen. But I can't._  
  
 _The second call came in the wee hours of the morning. 2:20 am. I was awake anyway--had been up for the better part of the night texting Gabe, not wanting our previous conversation to be over yet. I was in the middle of attempting to convince him to pick me up, to take us on an aimless drive through greenery. Gabe whinged on about being tired and how he'd seen more of me than the friends he came to visit, each message ending in a tidy 'xx'--kiss kiss, bang bang. We'd just said our goodbyes when the phone rang. I was drunk on whiskey and giddy with the feel of Gabe still all around me, my skin buzzing where each of his casual touches landed hours before. Going on the assumption it was Gabe calling to yell at me for keeping him up, I answered._  
  
 _"Where's my money, Elias?" Michael's silky voice murmured softly into my ear through the speaker._  
  
 _I sat up with a jolt. "I--I paid you this week, didn't I?"_  
  
 _Michael tutted at me. "You did not. Nor did you last week." A pause, filled with what sounded like a cigarette lighter being struck. I thought back over the past two weeks. I must’ve been preoccupied by Kat and my father attempting to coax me back home. And this week, well. Gabe happened, as sudden as a lightning storm and twice as devastating. "We've a little problem now, don't we, Eli? You made a promise to pay back my money. And, as I’m sure you know, all a man really has in this world is his word, is it not?"_  
  
 _"Look, Michael, I'm good for the money. I think. How--how much do I owe you?"_  
  
 _"Two thousand, six hundred." I cringed, thinking about the money I had stashed away in my flat; the bit of cash I had brought with me to Leeds. It only amounted to a little over a thousand. "You don't have my money, do you Elias?"_  
  
 _"I--uh,"_  
  
 _"Because if you don't, well. Remember those potential consequences I asked you to consider before I handed you my money? Pick the worst one you could think of. And once you have that image fixed in your mind, store it in the part of the brain that deals in irrefutable fact."_  
  
 _I stayed quiet, my hands trembling. My mouth felt stuffed full of cotton._  
  
 _"You have, oh, lets say...a week and a half to get my money to me. Do we have an understanding? Because if not, I’d be forced to cut your lying tongue out and post it to your mother." His tone turned harsh--a gravelly bark in my ear._  
  
 _I cleared my throat and croaked, "We do."_  
  
 _"Good lad."_  
  
 _The line went dead. I lowered the phone, shut it off. My mind was reeling. I turned to set my phone on the bedside table and caught Gabe's face smiling at me from the window. He hung there by his fingertips, nose pressed even flatter by the glass before it. I sighed, trundled over to the window, and opened it._  
  
 _"Alright?" His tone was bright, though his eyes uncertain._  
  
 _"No."_  
  
 _"Wanna talk about it?"_  
  
 _"Not really."_  
  
 _He scuffed the toe of his boot against the rug. "Wanna go for that drive now?"_  
  
 _I looked down at my striped pajamas. "Err..yeah. Just give me a moment to change."_  
  
 _Gabe looked as though he were about to say something cheeky, but decided against it and climbed silently back out into the frosted night._  
  
 _******************_  
  
 _I was so taken aback by the juxtaposition of the Michael on the phone versus the Michael I'd met in person that I started losing sleep. I turned to the comfort of my favorite coping mechanisms; avoidance and denial. I'd find myself texting Gabe, asking where he was, if he could come to my parents' house, talk a bit, possibly take my mind off what was going on. We'd sit in his car for hours, watching dawn from the wrong side of morning--the sunrise throwing orange light over Gabriel's jagged features. I told him nothing of what was happening. We merely sat and talked idly about nothing in particular. I shuffled through his CD collection while he talked endlessly about bands I'd never heard, artists he thought I'd like._  
  
 _"That's She Wants Revenge, yeah? They're from LA. They're like...alt, goth, indie rock with a bit of post-punk revival thrown in for good measure. The lead singer, yeah? Justin Warfield, he's got this voice that's just...I dunno. It'll put you in a trance, like, 'cause it's just droning. But in a good way, right? So you've got his nasal, beehive voice and then the pounding beat in the background. I like to put them on when I have to just drive. Not going anywhere in particular, just drive and try to put some space between me and whatever's on my mind, yeah?"_  
  
 _I'd nearly asked if we could do just that--just drive off and not look back. I thought about the steady rhythm of the tyres on bitumen, of each passing road sign putting enough distance between me and my situation that it'd quickly become my past. I said nothing, though. Simply nodded my head along to everything he said, silently bidding him to go on, to push the thoughts from my head with his eager voice._  
  
 _Sometimes, we'd fall asleep in his old Ford, the windows fogged with our sleeping breath and the radio's volume dialed down low as a lullaby. Gabe always seemed to wake before me, so that when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with the sight of him grinning sheepishly back at me. Illuminated by the sparse light around us, he was all incandescent skin, his eyes huge and icy blue, his hair a lustrous chestnut halo. His incisors would wink at me behind his lips--the barest of smiles--before he'd check the clock and announce his need to be going._  
  
 _This is how we spent the early hours of 31 December, crammed into the front of Gabe's car from the hours of 5 to 10. We'd been chatting with ease, passing my flask back and forth, when his mobile suddenly shook to life on the dash, a happy, bleating electro song marring the soothing tones of the Nina Simone track I'd put on minutes before. Gabe checked the screen, told me he had to take the call, and asked for privacy. I was disappointed, but said I had to get back inside anyhow._  
  
 _As I trudged up the drive, the frosty gravel slipping under my canvas trainers, I saw a light come on in the front room. I sighed, bracing myself for what I was sure would be a total shit storm. I was right._  
  
 _My father was waiting for me. He sat in his favorite armchair, threadbare dressing gown belted tightly around his burgeoning stomach, a tumbler of dark liquid clutched in his arthritic fist. "Someone rang for you," he said, looking out the window. I followed his gaze, which settled upon Gabe, who was gesticulating wildly with his free hand, the other still pressing his mobile to his ear. "Someone named Michael."_  
  
 _"Oh," I said calmly, and then, realizing I had my mobile in my pocket, "Here? He called here? At the house?"_  
  
 _"Aye." My father set his tumbler down at his feet and regarded me with hard eyes. "Care to tell me what's going on, son?"_  
  
 _"What...what'd he say?" I dropped heavily into the seat across from him, trying to gauge the severity of the situation I suddenly found myself in. Outside, I could still see Gabe waving his arm around like a drowning man. I wondered numbly what he was saying, who he was talking to._  
  
 _"Just told me to tell you he rang. Was real evasive, he was." My father adjusted the belt holding his dressing gown closed, and then asked in short order, "He your boyfriend?" He practically spat the last word in my face._  
  
 _"Who? Michael?! No. Hell no!" He leveled his eyes at me, as if bidding me to go on. "I had a girlfriend, Dad, remember? Jen?"_  
  
 _"Aye, I remember. Lovely girl, that Jen. You still haven't answered my question, Elias. What's going on?"_  
  
 _I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "I borrowed money from him. Michael, that is."_  
  
 _"A loan?"_  
  
 _"Of sorts, yeah."_  
  
 _My father chuckled, lifting up his tumbler once more. "Proverbs, chapter twenty two, verse seven, son. 'The rich rules over the poor, and the borrower is the slave of the lender'."_  
  
 _"I don't want to do this, Dad," I sighed, rubbing at my temples._  
  
 _"You know I'm right, though."_  
  
 _"Why, Dad? Why do I know that? Because everything that comes from your mouth is a direct quote from an infallible book, or because you had me memorize the book cover to cover?"_  
  
 _"All the above, son." He took a deep pull from his tumbler and added, "I hope you don't expect me to help you out of this mess."_  
  
 _"I would never ask that of you, Dad." Mostly because I didn't wish to be indebted to him as well._  
  
 _"Good. Galatians 6:5 states, 'For every man shall bear his own burden'."_  
  
 _"Galatians, chapter six, verse two," I spat back at him, my anger quickly rising, "'Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ'."_  
  
 _My father scowled at me, his mouth set in a hard line. "And what about him, hmm?" he nodded towards Gabe, still in the drive._  
  
 _"What about him?!" I felt my entire body tense, each muscle pulled taut like a stretched rubber band._  
  
 _"Seems to be coming round a lot. Doesn't seem to be here for Katherine, either."_  
  
 _"What's your point?"_  
  
 _"Proverbs 26:4, 'Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto him'."_  
  
 _"Proverbs 26:5, 'Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own conceit'. What are you trying to say, Dad?"_  
  
 _"I'm just wondering what my transgression was. How badly did I sin, that you're being punished like this?"_  
  
 _"Punished like what?!"_  
  
 _"A fool and a fornicator both. What could I possibly have done--"_  
  
 _"Deuteronomy 24:16," my voice rose above his self-pitying rant, "'The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for the fathers: every man shall be put to death for his own sin'. I may be a fool--I'll give you that one, old man, but I can't recall that being some great sin."_  
  
 _"And what about--"_  
  
 _"What? Being a fornicator? Shouldn't that make you happy?! Finally, proof my son's not a big flaming queer!" I shouted, rising to my feet even as the pitch of my voice rose._  
  
 _"Leviticus 20:13. 'If a man lies with a man as with a woman, both of them shall be put to death for their abominable deed; they have forfeited their lives'." My father's grip on his tumbler tightened, the ice inside clinking noisily._  
  
 _"Lets just say, hypothetically, I am gay. Then what, Dad? What happens then?"_  
  
 _"I'd have nothing more to do with you." He said with all the tranquility one uses to read off a telephone number, or deliver an inalienable fact. Fire is hot. Water is wet._  
  
 _"'But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than a non-believer.’ First Timothy, chapter five, verse eight, Dad."_  
  
 _"You're a sick man, Elias. It's a wonder God hasn't handed you a worse lot in life. Shown you what he really thinks of you."_  
  
 _My body shaking like a leaf, I towered over my elderly father and plucked the tumbler from his hand. "Romans 2:11, 'For there is no partiality with God'. Wouldn't it just kill you, actually kill you, if I were this big queer--took it up the arse all the time--and I still got to Heaven because our God is so loving? Wouldn't that just burn you up inside? Seeing me and Gabe holding hands as we walked through the pearly gates?" I slugged back the remaining liquid--bourbon--in one gulp._  
  
 _My father was on his feet in the blink of an eye, his fist connecting with my jaw. He'd only clipped me, but it was enough to make blood well up in my mouth. I dropped the tumbler, ice cubes and shards of glass scuttling this way and that on the hardwood. Dad went to throw another punch and I ducked, pushing him back into his chair._  
  
 _He looked up at me with shock. I'm not sure whether the shock sprang from my having fought back, or him having lost his temper so quickly. Either way, he stayed seated, trying so hard to calm himself the effort was visible on his face. "Get out. Just get out of my house."_  
  
 _Wordlessly, I turned on my heel--glass crunching beneath the soles of my shoes--and headed upstairs._


	4. 03. The Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone proposes a felony.

_"Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames."_  
\--Rumi  
  
  
  
When Eli glances out his window he sees Gabe sitting on the bonnet of his car, fingering the buttons of his mobile. He throws open the window and leans out, whistling to catch his attention. Gabe turns, his face lighting up for a moment before he notices Eli’s wild-eyed stare, his face falling. He strides up the lawn quickly and scales the trellis. His face appears below Eli’s in a matter of seconds.  
  
“What’s goin’ on?”  
  
“You think you can give me a ride back?”  
  
“Uh...yeah, sure.”  
  
“Great. Be with you in a moment.” Eli wastes no time filling his suitcase back up and sets it next to the window before creeping down the hall to his mother’s bedroom. He pushes the door open gently and tiptoes to the bed. His mother lays before him, body as pale and thin as the sheets that cover it. Her eyes are open, focussed on nothing in particular, and full of sadness. He pushes the curls off her forehead and plants a dry, warm kiss like dropped cigarette ash to her brow.  
  
“Love you, Mummy.” He whispers. He turns to leave, but finds himself stopped by an alarmingly strong grip on his wrist. He twists round to face her again, startled. She looks up at him, eyes sharp and clear, verging on wild, and pulls him down towards her.  
  
“Don’t become your father, Elias.” Her voice is dry and slim as old parchment tickling his ear.  
  
“I won’t, Mum. I promise.” He almost leaves it there, but the suspicion that he won’t get to see her again after this--that this is a definite goodbye--dawns on him suddenly, and it takes all the breath he can muster under the weight of this realization to whisper back, “I don’t blame you, Mummy. None of this was your fault. I love you.”  
  
The vice-like grip she has on his wrist relaxes, her own hand falling limply to the bed. She turns her head, once again staring up at the ceiling with unfocussed eyes. She blinks a few times, and Eli can see tears staining her cheeks before he turns to leave, possibly for good.  
  
He makes quick work of throwing his case to the ground below his window before climbing out after it. The wooden slats of the trellis bite into his fingers as he climbs down, and he wonders dimly somewhere in the back of his mind how Gabe could tolerate a week’s worth of splintered fingers in order to sit on his floor and simply talk to him. About midway down Eli mistakes the foothold beneath him and falls, his body colliding with the rimey grass.  
  
Eli groans, his pride hurt worse than anything else, and suddenly feels a strong, warm hand gripping his arm. He lets Gabe pull him from the earth like a root vegetable, hears him stifling a chuckle. Gabe grabs Eli’s suitcase in his other hand and pulls him towards the Ford. Sliding into the passenger’s seat, Eli watches as Gabe chucks the battered suitcase into the back seat and walks around the front of the car--the headlights throwing his long, lean shadow against the peeling paint of the house.  
  
He slides in carefully, puts the car in gear, and backs out so fluidly Eli feels more like he’s swimming in water than being driven over bitumen. With trembling fingers, Eli reaches into his pocket, retrieving his cigarettes and lighter. He can feel Gabe casting intermittent glances at him from the other side of the car as he shoves the butt of his cigarette into his mouth. He ignores him for the moment, concentrating on striking the lighter and leaning the end of the fag to the flame.  
  
Gabe waits until Eli has expelled the first lungful of smoke into the cab of the car before finally speaking.  
  
“So what was all that about?”  
  
Eli sighs, takes the glasses from his face and rests them gently on his thigh. He rubs roughly at both eyes with the heels of his hands.  
  
“Had a bit of a row. With my father.”  
  
“Ah.” A moment’s pause. “Do you wanna talk about it?”  
  
For the first time since Eli met him, Gabe sounds uncertain. It’s almost heartbreaking to Eli, this realization. He needs someone to be sure, to know what to say or do next because his own head is such a jumble of thoughts and feelings.  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, anymore.” From his periphery, he can see Gabe nod his head vigorously.  
  
“Yeah, mate. S’okay.”  
  
They continue to drive for a stretch with nothing but the sound of tyres on tarmac filling their ears, the car rocking gently. The steady rrrum-thunk-rrrum-thunk a soothing sound for his mind to latch onto, pushing all the clamorous thoughts from his head. He throws his spent fag end out the window and leans his head back. His lids droop.  
  
There is suddenly nothing but the rrrum-thunk-rrrum-thunk of tyres on tarmac, and the steady sounds of Gabe’s breathing. There are these things, and nothing else.  
  
****  
 __  
I woke to a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder, shaking me. There was a voice attached, somehow, to the hand, and I wondered foolishly for a moment how something lacking a mouth could still have a voice. I blinked my eyes open to Gabe's concerned face peering at me, the landscape outside the window behind him motionless. I blinked a few more times, attempting to get the sleep out of my eyes. My cheek felt swollen, my tongue heavy in my mouth. I tasted copper, something metallic lingering at the back of my throat. Everything came at me in a rush--the phone calls from Michael, the fight with my father, saying goodbye to my mother. I realized too late that Gabe had been speaking continuously since I opened my eyes.  
  
"--because I get it--I do--if you don't wanna talk, but I mean...you legged it outta there pretty fast. Looked more like you'd robbed the place than anything. So I can understand if you don't want to talk about it, but it ain't good to keep shit bottled up inside. I know that for a fact, mate. Firsthand an' all."  
  
I held up a hand, halting his words as they marched steadily from his mouth. I sat up straighter, rubbing at my face. The car was still on, pumping warm air into the cab, doing nothing to clear the fog in my brain. The bright blue numbers of the digital clock read forty minutes after eleven. "Where are we?"  
  
"Train station. I didn't get very far before I realized I don't know where you live." He gave a little chuckle, a small, almost apologetic smile. "Didn't wanna wake you, though. You've seemed completely knackered all week."  
  
"I had an argument with my father."  
  
"Yeah, mate. You said."  
  
"About you. Partially."  
  
"Oh." Gabe looked genuinely taken aback for a moment, silent as he waited for me to continue.  
  
"He seemed to think we were lovers." I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "So, you know...you shouldn't go back there, probably. Wouldn't really make things better. Even if you told him you were with Kat. Whole other set of problems, that." I knew I was rambling, but couldn't stop myself. I reached for my cigarettes and lit one, attempting to keep my mouth from running away from me. It didn't work. "And then Michael called, and that certainly didn't make the situation any better."  
  
"Michael your boyfriend?" Gabe asked quietly. He almost sounded disappointed.  
  
"What?! No! Why does everyone keep asking me that? Dad asked me that, too. No, he's not. I had a girlfriend, remember? Jen?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Alright, mate. Alright." Gabe held his hands up like he was being mugged or taken hostage. "Didn't mean to offend. I were just askin'. Who is he, then?"  
  
I sighed, my gaze sweeping across the deserted car park. An empty crisp packet scuttled across the tarmac like a crab. I kept my eyes ahead of me resolutely as I filled him in on the past few months of my life--beginning with being fired from my job and ending with the calls from Michael. Gabe sat silently, his eyes fixed on my profile, listening to every word I had to say. Sometimes I could see him nodding from the corner of my eye, other times he'd wait for me to pause and answer with a soft 'mmhmm'. I almost felt like I was at a psychiatrist's office. Almost. Every once in a while, his hand would move outward from his side, as if he were about to touch me, but it would fall just short, land on the centre console. Mostly he just spun the ring--a silver skull-- around his finger.  
  
"I don't know how he found my parents, but...it scared me. Scared the hell out of me. I don't really care what he does with my father, but if he were to do anything to my mother or Kat, I'd..." I trailed off, my voice threatening to break. I cleared my throat. This time Gabe did touch me, a quick, reassuring pat to my thigh, gone as quick as it arrived.  
  
"Ain't there anyone you can borrow the money off? Just to get this Michael character off your back?"  
  
"Yeah, because borrowing money has worked out so well for me up til this point, hasn't it?" I said sarcastically. My head felt as though it were about to burst open.  
  
"I don't mean from another loan shark, mate. A friend or summat. That's all I meant. Just...tryin' to help, s'all." His tone was dejected. He turned his face toward the window.  
  
"Sorry. I just...I don't know what to do. I didn't mean to snap at you. And no, to answer your question. I don't have many friends, and those that I do are struggling to make ends meet, as well." I sighed, taking a pull off my cigarette. "Like I said, borrowing money hasn't really worked out for me. Wouldn't really want to go down that road again, even with someone less threatening."  
  
"Understandable, that." He suddenly became very interested in the state of his fingernails, brought his thumb up to his mouth to chew at it. "What if you found someone willing to give you the money. Like a gift."  
  
I shot him a look. "And who would be willing to do that?" He shrugged, still continuing to tear at his nail with his tombstone teeth. "No. I don't think so. I would still feel...I don't know. Indebted, in a way. No."  
  
A moment passed. I watched a wispy cloud cross over the silver sliver of the moon. Gabe laughed suddenly. It was a small, breathless, unbelieving sound that reminded me of the car accident I was in when I was twelve. My family had been driving back from on of my dad's sermons. It was winter, and there was ice on the road. The rear left tyre locked up and caused the car to spin. Everything was deadly quiet--I couldn't even hear my pulse in my ears, although I could feel it, hard. When we finally came to a stop, my mother sucked in a huge breath, and let out a laugh just like Gabe's. The incredulous laugh that greets the face of disaster.  
  
"What a way to start off the new year, huh?"  
  
I turned my head toward him, confused. "What?"  
  
He looked at me as though I'd just sprouted a second head. "It'll be the first in," his eyes flicked to the clock on the dash, "ten minutes, mate."  
  
"Oh. Guess it just slipped my mind. I don't usually celebrate the New Year." I don't, usually. Could count on one hand the number of New Years parties I'd been to in my life. I saw my first pair of breasts at one when I was twelve, which was both exciting and confusing. Lost my virginity at one when I was seventeen. Four years prior to sitting there in the car with Gabe, I met Jen at a mutual friend's New Year's party.  
  
Gabe made a small noise of acknowledgement, eyes still on the clock, thumbnail still firmly locked between rows of teeth. "So...what're you gonna do?"  
  
I sighed, reaching for my cigarettes. I lit one, rubbed at my face briskly. "No clue. Life of crime?" I joked weakly.  
  
Gabe perked up, a smile cracking the lower half of his face. "Male prostitute?" He teased, turning his body towards me.  
  
I shuddered. "That's just sad."  
  
"Drug dealer?"  
  
"I think I'd need disposable income to buy my wares first..."  
  
"Insurance scam?"  
  
"Too white collar."  
  
He made a face at that before suggesting, "Knock over an off license?"  
  
It was my turn to make a face. "I doubt they'd have enough cash to cover me."  
  
"Knock over more than one off license?"  
  
"You might as well suggest I just get a job, Gabe."  
  
"Lazy." He smirked, his face turning thoughtful for a moment. "Why can't you find another job? You have looked, right?"  
  
I nodded, taking a pull off my cigarette. "Magazines are dying out. There are still the more well known ones, of course. But there's no openings there--I've checked. And the smaller ones are usually staffed by friends of the creators." I shrugged.  
  
Silence again. I watched him, still and silent, his eyes glued to the clock again. I felt myself shifting closer to him, my body sucked into that innate gravitational pull he seemed to possess. His eyes glowed in the streetlamps, their reflection in each of his pupils under his thick, dark lashes. He was biting his lip, blinking slowly, breathing even, still watching the clock.  
  
Suddenly, he said, "S'midnight," and turned his head towards me, obviously surprised by how close my face was to his own. Without thinking, my hand shot out, fingers clutching the back of his neck, tangling in the tresses there. His hair was as soft as I imagined it would be--which made me realize I had given the softness of his hair consideration. His hand moved toward my own, and plucked the spent fag end from between my fingers. He threw it out the open window behind him without looking, and waited.  
  
I moved in slowly, pressing my lips to his gently. It was a soft and tentative movement of lips, and I've no idea how long it lasted. I flicked my tongue against his lips once, and pulled back before he could even respond, my cheeks burning.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, as though just waking up, his lips parted, slick with my spit. He fixed me with a heavy, ecstatic gaze and said, "What about a bank?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What if," his eyes darkened, brow cocked, "you--no, what if we _robbed a bank?"_


	5. 04. The Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a plan is formed and the sexual tension increases despite some sex being had.

_"Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."_  
\--Rumi  
  
  
  
Eli hovers in the doorway, watching Gabe take in his sparse, dim living room. Jen had taken all of her belongings while he was away, which has essentially gutted the flat. She had been merciful, though, and left the TV--which they bought together. She took the full sized sofa and left only the two-seater. The end tables went with her, but the coffee table remains. Eli thinks if there were anything to comment on, Gabe might've tossed him a polite compliment. Since there isn't much, though, Gabe simply perches himself on the two-seater and goes about pulling off his boots. He's wearing mismatched socks, one blue with green stars, the other zebra print. He massages the arch of his right foot with a sigh.  
  
Eli stares at him for a moment, this strange, exotic creature intruding into his natural, mundane habitat. He marvels at how Gabe could look so completely at ease while being totally out of place. He marches wordlessly into the kitchen and takes a couple of cans of beer from the fridge. When he returns, Gabe is right where he left him, working on the arch of the other foot.  
  
"Y'know, I was thinking," he says, tossing a cursory glance at Eli as he sets a beer on the coffee table, "it should be a decent sized bank we hit. Not too big, not too small. Cheers, mate." He tosses in the last two words with a grin, grabbing up his beer and cracking it open.  
  
"You can't be serious. I...we're not really going to do this." Eli falls back onto the small sofa, presses the cool can of beer to his head, which is suddenly killing him. "People don't just decide to rob banks, Gabe."  
  
"Sure they do. People do all the time. That's why banks get robbed in the first place, Eli. Because people just decided to rob them. See how that works?" Eli watches Gabe down half his beer in one go.  
  
"I don't know how to rob a bank, Gabriel." Eli says, his voice suddenly frenzied.  
  
"What, and I do?" Gabe ruffles his hair, a grin cracking his face. "Look--if you're that worried about it, just leave it to me, yeah? Can't be that hard."  
  
"Bank robbery can't be that hard? A _felony_ can't be that hard?"  
  
"No, coming up with a plan to commit the felony can't be that hard. D'you mind if I kip here for the night? On the sofa, like. I do my best thinkin' when I'm asleep."  
  
Eli gawps at him, disbelief clearly written on his face. Gabe pushes playfully at his shoulder and starts freeing himself of his jacket, his rings and his leather cuff. "C'mon, I can't sleep on top of ya, now can I?" he asks, all cheek and false innocence. "Also, I'm gonna need a blanket, mate. And possibly a pillow."  
  
Silently, Eli shuffles off to fetch Gabe a pillow and blanket. The lamp that usually sat on the bedside table is lying in several pieces in the middle of the bedroom floor--Janet's handiwork. He knocks most of it out of the way with his foot and peels the duvet off the bed, takes up Jen's pillow. Gabe is already stretched out on the sofa when Eli returns to him. He's staring up at the ceiling, seemingly concentrating, until he turns his head towards Eli, a smile of thanks on his face. Eli throws the duvet over the top of Gabe's prone form, and Gabe cheekily raises his upper body to prompt Eli to place the pillow where his head was. As Eli bends to do so, Gabe kisses him gently on the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Goodnight, Eli."  
  
"N-night, Gabe."  
  
**************  
 __  
I awoke to silence, the bedsheet twisted round my legs and bunched together between my knees. I had slept restlessly, the bed too big with only one body in it. I had woken a handful of times during the night, expecting to come in contact with warm flesh as I turned in bed, my arm reaching out, calling Jen's name, and once even Gabe's. I untangled myself from the sheet with a groan and pulled my dressing gown out of my suitcase, throwing it on hastily.  
  
The tiles of the bathroom floor felt like ice under my bare feet. I snatched up my toothbrush and ran it under the tap, carefully avoiding my reflection. I took a piss as I brushed my teeth--an artform I've perfected over many years of impunctuality and rushing--and spat in the toilet before I flushed. Gabe, I discovered as I walked through the front of the flat, was nowhere to be seen. The duvet and pillow lay abandoned on the sofa. I sighed heavily and put on the coffee, my head throbbing. I was just pouring a cup when Gabe trundled in through the front door, several folded cardboard boxes in tow.  
  
"Alright?" He smiled brightly at me, kicking the door shut behind him.  
  
"And where were you?" I asked, pulling another mug out of the cabinet, pouring him a cup.  
  
He held up the boxes with a look of triumph. "I've been plannin', ain't I?"  
  
"Those are our disguises, then?" i asked dryly, passing him a mug of coffee.  
  
I watched him purse his lips and blow over the hot liquid before taking an appreciative mouthful. "Ha ha," he said sarcastically, "Don't you worry 'bout what this is. This is for me."  
  
"And what am I supposed to be doing while you're playing with boxes?" I watched him shuffle on his feet, side to side, and take another sip as though he were stalling. "You've not given it any thought, have you?"  
  
He choked a bit on his mouthful of coffee, coughing and wheezing, his gaze comically indignant. "That's not true! I've been givin' it a lot of thought, actually. I just ain't come up with nothin' yet."  
  
***************  
  
Eli fidgets on his end of the sofa, his eyes scanning the large, creased papers before him. Just a few hours before, he'd been laid drunk on the scratchy carpeting in front of the television, watching Gabe having an animated phone conversation out on the small balcony. He'd fallen asleep watching Gabe's hands slice through the air as he gesticulated, and woken up to the sound of his front door slamming shut, dusk pressing up on the building outside the window. Gabe had come rushing in, flicking on the light and waving around a large cardboard tube, his face the embodiment of sunshine itself. He had announced to his very confused accomplice that he'd gotten a hold of the blueprints for Bank Royale--though he wouldn't explain how.  
  
Which is how Eli finds himself darting his eyes intermittently from the blueprint covering his coffee table like a tablecloth to Gabe, sitting quite calmly on the other end of the couch, rolling a joint. "Here," Gabe kicks his foot up on the coffee table, pointing with the heel of his boot, knocking it twice against the cheap particle board before placing his foot back on the carpet, "is the vault where they keep the safety deposit boxes, yeah?"  
  
Eli watches as Gabe pauses to run his pointed tongue down the seam of the joint--eyes locked with Eli's, his gaze dark and heavy--before pressing it down. "And I heard--fetch us your lighter, yeah?--that they're havin' construction done soon. In that vault. 'Cause the locking mechanisms on the boxes are _fucked_. Which is good for us, yeah? 'Cause while you have one of the tellers puttin' cash in one suitcase, yeah, you can march another down to the vault and ransack them, yeah--"  
  
He watches Gabe rattle off a list of things to take from the deposit boxes between hits--cash, of course, and most importantly bearer bonds. He keeps his gaze trained on Gabe's face as his frantic energy evaporates off him, his lids drooping as he leans back on the sofa, walking him through what he should do and how. He keeps biting at his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Eli thinks he looks satisfied and resplendent, eyes half lidded as ribbons of smoke curl around him, his lips swollen where he keeps biting and sucking them and--Christ, Eli thinks, this has to be a glimpse of what he looks like right after sex. He imagines Gabe laid satiated and gasping against the pale blue and white striped sheets Jen bought, a film of sweat making his exposed skin glow, his chest heaving with each breath, his hair a wreck.  
  
"--Eli! You ain't even listening to me." Gabe all but pouts, snapping Eli out of his daze.  
  
"I'm sorry." He sighs, rubbing at his temples.  
  
"I said, d'you got any crisps?"  
  
"I can't do this on my own, Gabe."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Rob a bank. I can't do it on my own."  
  
Gabe slides along the sofa until he's pressed right up against Eli--shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh--and rests his head on Eli's shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll be there."  
  
"Yeah, in the car."  
  
"Yeah, well...I'll still be there."  
  
Eli takes in a steadying breath, inhaling Gabe's comforting scent--warm leather, Old Spice and petrol. He exhales heavily, resting his head on the back of the sofa. "I still think we need help."  
  
"We don't need help, Eli. The more people you get involved, the messier things'll end up bein'." Eli feels Gabe's hot breath against the skin of his throat--his nose nuzzling the stubble under his jaw, his lips grazing at his pulse point. "Eli?" His voice is low, husked.  
  
"Yes, Gabe?" Eli answers, voice barely a whisper, suddenly strained.  
  
"I'm still waitin' for those crisps."  
  
*************  
 __  
Gabe was not pleased, to say the least, that I had invited Eddie and Jack to join our plan.  
  
I'd gone to Jack's that Thursday for our poker game--my first since returning to the city. I hadn't gone there planning on telling them anything that was going on, about falling behind on my payments, or Gabriel, or our plans. But when Eddie burst in thirty minutes late, in a panic over his own less-than-friendly call from Michael...it all sort of came tumbling out of my mouth.  
  
"Yes, and tell me again, because I must've missed it the first time, why exactly do you trust this kid?" Jack asked coolly, using a tea towel to twist the cap off a bottle of beer before passing it to me.  
  
I nervously shuffled the deck, keeping my eyes trained on the cards. "I just do," I said in a small voice.  
  
"Oh, well I'm convinced." Jack drawled sarcastically, bringing his glass up to his mouth.  
  
"I'll do it." Eddie exclaimed suddenly, his voice like a flock of birds scared into flight.  
  
Jack and I both turned to him, incredulous. "You've got to be joking," Jack spat, screwing his face up.  
  
Eddie shrugged, fidgeted with his glasses. "I need the money.”  
  
Jack regarded Eddie and me both with a look that was equal parts ill ease and distaste for a long moment before rolling his eyes heavenward and saying to the ceiling, "I'm in. But only to make sure you two idiots don't get arrested. Or taken for a ride. Now deal the cards."  
  
When I came in at half three in the morning full of drunken enthusiasm and curry and told Gabe I'd invited Jack and Eddie to join us--and that they'd accepted--his beautiful face hardened and creased, his eyes glowing with anger. I took a staggering step back, afraid for a moment he might hit me. He turned, the tense line of his shoulders facing me, and said in a low voice, "You should get some rest, Eli. You're gonna be well bladdered in the morning."  
  
He was right, of course. I woke the next morning with a turbulent stomach and an earthquake in my head. Even the sound of my body moving against the mattress was too loud--the murmurs coming from the front of the flat seeming as raucous as a screaming match, only less intelligible. I shuffled out to find Jack sitting neatly on the sofa, his hands clasped in his lap, and Eddie in my threadbare armchair, staring nervously at Gabe--who was sitting rather calmly, crosslegged on the floor--and clutching a bottle of wine to his chest.  
  
"Ah, there he is," Gabe beamed up at me, his eyes twinkling with puzzling amusement. "How you feeling?"  
  
I rubbed briskly at my temples, "My toenails are dizzy and my hair is nauseous."  
  
Jack chuckled from his perch, throwing me the packet of cigarettes I'd left on the coffee table. I caught them clumsily, accepted the lighter Gabe held up to me. "We were just having a little chat with your friend Gabe, here," Jack said casually as I lit my cigarette. "Isn't that right, Gabby?"  
  
Gabe hid his look of annoyance as he stood up, unfolding himself like a lawn chair. "Sure thing, _Jacky_ ," he murmured through gritted teeth before turning his attention to me, hand on my forearm for a moment before he thought better of it. "Gonna get you some coffee. You berk." He mocked affectionately under his breath before heading off towards the kitchen.  
  
"Bit of an odd duck, that one." Jack muttered under his breath to me as I sat down next to him on the sofa. I shrugged as he passed me the ashtray. "Still, I don't think he's smart enough to be a genuine threat to anybody." I stayed silent, staring down at the worn carpeting between my bare feet, attempting to keep the anger I felt rising from showing on my face.  
  
"I brought you a bottle of wine." Eddie said suddenly, passing it over.  
  
"What the hell is this, a dinner party?" I asked gruffly, my eyes scanning the label.  
  
"I tried to tell him." Jack shook his head, bemused.  
  
I leveled my eyes at Eddie, tipping the bottle in his direction. "You know, you could've just given this to Gabe. He _is_ smart enough to find the kitchen, y'know."  
  
Eddie looked a bit ashamed of himself, opened his mouth to perhaps apologize before being cut off by Gabe yelling from the kitchen, "Eli! Y'think you could help me for a sec?"  
  
"But apparently not smart enough to brew coffee," Jack said under his breath, taking the wine bottle from my hand.  
  
I shot him a look as I stood, walking towards the kitchen. Gabe was standing in front of the coffee pot, a steaming mug in his left hand. He waited until I was within reach, his hand shooting out to grasp the waistband of my boxers, pulling me close until our chests were centimetres apart, until I was towering over him. He pressed the coffee mug into my hand and stood on tiptoe, our chests brushing as he whispered in my ear, "Tell them it was all your idea. Tell them you're the one what came up with the plan."  
  
I shook my head in confusion and his hair tickled my nose. "What? Why?"  
  
"They wouldn't believe I came up with it, for a start. And secondly, they think I'm an idiot and they don't trust me. It's a good plan, but they'd shoot it down immediately if they knew it came outta my _head." His fingers were still curled around my waistband, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine._  
  
"S-sure," I agreed.  
  
He smiled and pressed a warm kiss to my jaw. "Thank you, Eli," he breathed, continuing to pepper kisses across my skin. I stood there for a moment, attempting to control my breathing, my free hand snaking out to press at his lower back, pulling him even closer, my eyes slipping shut--  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" Jack's voice sounded from the doorway behind me and I jumped, splashing hot coffee over my hand and down my arm with a shouted curse. Gabe rushed to my aid, drying me off with a tea towel while Jack leaned casually against the doorjamb. "Because if not," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "I'd like to know what the plan is, exactly. If there even is one."  
  
"I've got it under control, don't worry." I hissed through my teeth, allowing Gabe to march me over to the sink. He turned the tap on and plunged my hand under the cool water.  
  
"Do you really, now?" Jack said dryly. I shot him a look.  
  
"Just...give me a moment, alright?" I barked. Jack held up his hands in surrender and retreated into the living room.  
  
"Sorry." Gabe mumbled, eyes focussed resolutely on his grip around my wrist, still holding my arm beneath the water. I shrugged, and he planted a soft kiss on my shoulder. "Time to rally the troops, I guess." His fingers slid softly across my skin as he reached to turn off the tap.  
  
"Suppose so," I sighed.  
  
"I'll fix you another cup while you fill 'em in."  
  
"Thanks." I turned to head for the door and felt a playful slap land on my arse. I turned to see Gabe grinning wickedly at me before shooing me off again.  
  
*************  
  
The plan was fairly simple, in the end. We spent four days going over it again and again, refining it. Gabe figured out the McDonalds nearest my flat was exactly the same distance away as Bank Royale. The McDonalds was to the east, whereas Bank Royale was to the west, which worked out perfectly for us. Gabe would drive down to the McDonalds and back again, timing how long it would take to get us to safety.  
  
Jack and I spent most of our time studying the blueprint, while Eddie chewed his fingernails ragged. It was to be Jack's job hitting the safety deposit boxes, while I stayed with the tellers, getting the cash.  
  
It was supposed to be easy. It was all supposed to be so easy.   
  
**************  
  
The night before the 'big day', as Eddie has nervously started calling it, has been a fairly uneventful one. Eddie and Eli have spent most of it drinking, just flirting with the edge of drunkenness. Jack, showing an impressive capacity for open-mindedness, went along on one of Gabe's McDonalds runs, wanting to see his driving skills first hand. And Gabe, well, Gabe had been kind of sketchy for the better part of the day--more withdrawn, distancing himself from the group--the nervous energy of their little crew obviously getting to him.  
  
The night, though, is better. Jack and Eddie put on Ocean’s Eleven--the original--to watch, and ended up falling asleep before it was even over. "It's ridiculous," Gabe had said when they first put the DVD in, shaking his head in mild disgust, "You know Jack fancies himself Sinatra. You know he does," and excusing himself from the flat, saying he needed some quality time with his tunes, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.  
  
Now, though, Eli fidgets nervously, watching the flickering lights of the TV casting shadows over his friends’ sleeping faces. He snatches up his coat and pulls his shoes on, deciding he needs the chilly winter air to help clear out his head. Perhaps take a walk. Definitely smoke a fag or two.  
  
From his vantage point in the front garden, Eli can see Gabe sitting alone in his car. His headlights illuminate the sleet as it hurtles towards the ground. Eli tucks his cigarette packet back into his coat and trudges across the lawn. The icy droplets sting his face as they make contact with his skin, dotting the lenses of his glasses. There’s a fine layer of frost on the handle of the car door as he lifts it up and pulls, swinging it open. New Wave music pours from the cab and swarms the air around him as he climbs in, slamming the door against the cold. The car’s heating system fogs his glasses and nearly steals the breath from his lungs.  
  
Gabe laughs, turning down the music as Eli removes first his glasses, then his fingerless gloves.  
  
“What’s the Rat Pack doin’, then?” Gabe asks him, a mirthful glint in his eyes. He turns the headlights off.  
  
“Sleeping, believe it or not.” Eli removes his coat as best he can sitting down, and lights a cigarette. Tipping his face upward on the exhale, he allows his head to fall back on the headrest behind him as he stares up at the ripped and frayed upholstery of the cab’s ceiling. “Don’t know how, with what we plan to do tomorrow. Don’t think I’ve ever felt so awake in my life.”  
  
Beside him, he hears Gabe make a noise of agreement, the wooden beads of his seat cover clicking gently as he turns his body to more fully face Eli. “Feel like I got all these electrical currents runnin’ through me veins.”  
  
“You don’t sing the body electric, you _are_ the body electric.”  
  
Gabe chuckles at this, surprising Eli. He finishes his cigarette, rolls down the window and chucks out the spent end. Turning back to Gabe, he’s startled to find their faces are only a few inches apart. Eli’s suddenly acutely aware of how damn hot the interior of the car is as Gabe reaches down between them and deftly plucks Eli’s glasses from his knee. Eli watches as Gabe folds them neatly and lays them on the dash.  
  
“You say they’re sleeping?” Eli can feel the question breeze over the skin of his jaw, Gabe is so close now. Mouth dry, Eli nods his head sharply. “Good.”  
  
And the gap between them is closed, Gabe’s soft, warm mouth colliding with his own. Eli reaches a shaky hand up to grasp the back of Gabe’s neck, pulling him in closer even as Eli’s mind screams at him to stop, that this is wrong, that this won’t do, this feels like sin, this feels so fucking good, please, please don’t stop. Gabe’s tongue is in his mouth, tracing soft patterns on the roof, and Eli wonders how long it’s been there, because he definitely doesn’t recall allowing it between his lips. This mystery, however, doesn’t stop him from sucking the thick muscle softly at first, then a bit harder once the sound of Gabe’s low groan hits his ears.  
  
Gabe regains custody of his tongue, which flicks once more against Eli’s own before retreating entirely--Gabe’s mouth moving now down to Eli’s chin, placing open kisses across his shadowed jaw. Eli’s head is spinning, tossing all thought from his skull until the only two things remaining are blind panic and overwhelming desire, kept there by pure centrifugal force.  
  
“Please,” he breathes, hardly aware of the plea even as it leaves his mouth. He feels Gabe’s palm groping eagerly at his rapidly filling cock through the scratchy denim of his jeans. “Please,” he gasps again, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.  
  
Gabe pulls back, appraising Eli with a mischievous gleam in his eye. The teasing friction between Eli’s legs disappears as Gabe withdraws his hand. They’re still close enough to share body heat, though Gabe is no longer touching him at all.  
  
“G’on,” Gabe breathes, his tone soft, but commanding, “get your cock out.”  
  
Gabe’s name tumbles from Eli’s mouth in a whimper. He’s fully hard now, his hands shaking at his sides. In the dim light spilling through the windows, Eli can just make out the thick outline of Gabe’s erection through his jeans. He wants to reach out and grasp him, make Gabe feel as torn as he does. He wants to smack Gabe in his wicked mouth, tell him to go fuck himself. He wants to exit the suddenly smothering constraint of the car, trudge all the way back to his flat in the merciless cold, and hide under his threadbare duvet until Michael sends one of his goons over to shoot him in the head. Instead, he whispers pathetic pleas, begging for exactly what, he’s unsure, just for any decision to be made for him.  
  
“Elias,” the way his name unravels from Gabe’s mouth makes him throb, “I can’t do anything until you get your cock out.”  
  
Fingers trembling, Eli pops the button on his jeans, shifting his hips as he pulls the zip. He’s aware of Gabe’s eyes on him as solid as hands, each of his muscles shaking as though the heater were turned off and the windows rolled down. Pulling himself free, he chances a glance at Gabe just in time to see him lick his lips hungrily.  
  
“G’on,” Gabe urges in a low murmur. Eli takes a deep, unsteady breath and begins to stroke himself slowly. He grits his teeth, his eyelids drooping heavily. Worrisome, he thinks, to be this turned on by being watched like this, the thrill spiking his heart rate and the guilt swirling in his belly. The thought strikes him that he could just ignore Gabe entirely, then it wouldn’t feel so wrong, so weird. But that’s not a feasible option, not with Gabe’s breath suddenly so hot at his neck, the whispered words of encouragement ghosting over the flesh of his shoulder as Gabe tugs his collar sideways, exposing more skin. “Open your eyes, Eli.”  
  
“They _are_ open,” Eli hisses through gritted teeth, the rhythm of his fist over his shaft faltering.  
  
“Open them wider, then.” The tone of Gabe’s voice is still quietly commanding, but is tinged with laughter now as his hand curls softly against the inside of Eli’s thigh. Eli opens his eyes wider, sees Gabe staring at him with darkened eyes as he pushes back his hair. His hand comes down to wrap around Eli’s wrist, repositions Eli’s hand to the base of his shaft. “Keep ‘em open, yeah?”  
  
And with that, Gabe ducks his head. The angle is nearly as awkward as Eli was in his teens, and he finds himself adjusting the seat to afford Gabe more room. He grins up at Eli in a moment of silent thanks before ducking back down and taking the head of Eli’s cock into his mouth. Eli gasps, the fingers of his free hand winding themselves around the strands of hair at the nape of Gabe's neck.  
  
Up until this moment, Eli had only received begrudging, perfunctory oral sex from past girlfriends and one night flings of the female persuasion. This, though, is incomparable. There is no hesitation on Gabe's part, not an awkward or misplaced movement. There are no complaints of taste or gag reflex, or even the inelegant angle with which they have to work, no faltering rhythm. There is only the hot, wet suction of Gabe's mouth as he takes Eli deeper and deeper until the tip of his nose brushes Eli's knuckles where he's still holding himself. Gabe swallows around him, forcing a strangled groan from the back of Eli's throat before pulling back to swirl his tongue around the head. Eli's hips push upward of their own accord, and Gabe sinks lower again. Gabe is making the kind of noises the starving make when finally tucking into a hot meal, contented sighs through his nose, little 'mmm's that vibrate around him and outright moans that shoot straight through him.  
  
And while Gabe's superior technique leaves little to be desired, it's the feeling of being truly wanted, truly desired enough that the mere taste of him could elicit such a reaction from another human being that pushes Eli over the edge sooner than he likes. He comes with a groan that catches in his gritted teeth, Gabe swallowing his release down like water. He pulls off with an obscene popping sound as the worst of Eli's aftershocks subside.  
  
Through the din of his own heavy breath, pounding heart and dialed down radio, Eli hears the sound of a zip being undone. His eyes cut sideways to find Gabe releasing himself from the tight confines of his jeans. Eli watches as he peels both jeans and pants down to his mid thighs in one surprisingly fluid motion. "Look at me, Elias," he breathes, stroking himself shamelessly.  
  
Eli tears his eyes away from between Gabe's thighs and is startled to find Gabe staring at him with such intensity he actually feels his heart skip a beat. Gabe reaches out with his free hand, touching Eli's springy curls, his face and his neck before finally settling on his shoulder with a heavy grip. He can feel Gabe's fingertips biting into him even through his thick coat. His throat is dry, palms suddenly itching to reach out and touch the younger man. All the while, Gabe continues to fix him with that loaded gaze, his incisors pressing down into his swollen bottom lip until the surrounding skin goes a bloodless white.  
  
Gabe's knee bangs loudly into the centre console as though he were about to move closer to Eli, but thought better of it. The longer they hold the gaze, the closer Gabe seems to approach the edge himself, his eyes rolling and half-lidded, his breathing harsh.  
  
"Eli," he exhales, eyes finally falling closed, "Elias."  
  
Eli reaches a tentative hand out, joining Gabe's own on his shaft. It's an odd angle, he thinks, trying his best to work with it. Gabe makes a pathetic sound at the back of his throat and, emboldened, Eli brings his other hand up to palm his heavy sac. The grip on Eli's shoulder tightens, Gabriel moaning openly now, his head thrown back as he pushes his hips into Eli's fist.  
  
"Yes, yes, just like that," Gabe chokes out. He's fucking Eli's fist vigorously now, encouragement spilling from his lips unbidden, "God, don't stop. Wanted this--wanted you since...fuck, feels like forever. First night I saw you, Christ, yes, like that. Wanted to just spread you out on the bed and--shit, Eli--or on the bonnet of my car. I--oh, fuck!" Gabe comes mid-sentence, his release seeping through Eli's fingers in a warm, sticky flood. And there's the breathy, disbelieving laugh again, his cheeks flushed at either side of his satisfied grin.  
  
He holds Eli's wrist, stroking his thumb over his skin as he plucks an oil stained rag off the dash, using it to wipe Eli's hand clean with another breathless laugh. He drops the cloth back onto the dash and sets about making himself decent--the action making Eli realize he's still exposed. He blushes crimson, tucks himself back in. When he turns his attention back to Gabe, he's greeted by a sheepish grin.  
  
"Wotcher."  
  
Eli's laughter is explosive and giddy and doesn't stop until his sides hurt and his cheeks ache. Gabe scoots closer to him, leaning over the centre console to rain kisses over his face. "Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?" Eli asks suddenly, surprising himself. "In my bed, I mean. Would you like to sleep in my bed. With me. I'll also be there. In my bed. You know, because Eddie's in the armchair. Jack's on the sofa, so--"  
  
Gabe presses his palm gently against Eli's lips, damming the flow of words. "Lead the way."


	6. 05. The Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the robbery finally happens and things start to get confusing.

_"Head down towards Kansas,_  
We will get there when we get there,  
don't you worry.  
Feel bad about the things we do along the way,  
but not really that bad.  
We inhaled the frozen air.  
Lord, send me a mechanic  
if I'm not beyond repair.  
  
He has fixed his sign in the sky.  
He has raised me from the pit, and He will set me high."  
\---The Mountain Goats, Psalms 40:2  
 __  
No matter how hard I concentrate now, the memory of committing the act of robbery is still a blur of colour and sound. I remember being in the car with the guys, and the discussion of timing. We played at being calmer than we actually were. My heartrate was steadily climbing and showing no sign of slowing. The only one of our quartet I actually believed felt the ease they were projecting was Gabe. Always Gabe, with his effortless demeanor, oozing charm even as the world around him crumbles. I remember thinking even if I were the only one of us to make it out of the bank, I'd be fine, as long as I was greeted by Gabe's easy grin when the car door slammed behind me. Everything would be fine.  
  
We entered the bank one at a time, and once we were all in, we aligned ourselves, sweeping into the bank proper, Jack and Eddie flanking me on either side. Oddly enough, our lack of firearms wasn't even an issue. We needn't even hint at having guns concealed on our persons--everyone just assumed it. Who would be stupid enough to attempt to rob a bank this size unarmed?  
  
We ordered two of the four tellers on duty into the centre of the room along with the bank patrons who were unfortunate enough to bear witness to this whole ordeal. Another teller, a short brunette, was ordered into the safety deposit vault with Jack. I ordered the last teller--a kid barely older than Gabe--to fill up the briefcases with cash while Eddie circled round our captives. One at a time, I slid the full briefcases across the polished floor for Eddie to collect. Surely it can't be this easy, I thought, grasping the handle of my case. The whole thing just seemed so...effortless. I finally knew what life must be like for Gabriel. No wonder he seemed so totally at ease in any situation thrown at him. I had overestimated the difficulty of bank robbery and by extension, life itself.  
  
I was on an adrenaline high, euphoric and half hard as we drove off. I drummed my fingers restlessly on the case I held across my lap, dreamed of what I'd do with my share once I paid off Michael completely. I wondered what Gabe would do with his share. Tune up his car, no doubt. Would he finally join the rest of his peers in this century and invest in an iPod? Work on converting his extensive musical collection to digital? Would I be allowed to stick around to see it happen? What if--a truly mad idea--we pooled our money together and got a nice little cottage in the country somewhere?  
  
Gabe took a hard left, crashing my side almost painfully into Eddie. Jack cursed at him loudly, calling him all manner of insulting names. Emboldened by the electricity seemingly coursing through my veins, I nearly spoke up in his defence before catching Gabe's gaze in the rearview. With a wicked grin and nearly imperceptible shake of the head, he dissuaded me from saying anything and switched out CDs without once taking his eyes off the road. From the speakers, Justin Warfield blared about saving your soul before it's too late. I felt the laughter fizzing up my throat and between my lips like fizzing Alka-Seltzer before I could even try to stop it.  
  
The scenery whipped by us at an alarming speed, while the music imprinted its chant onto my brain until the world was reduced to nothing but the few things my hyper-acute senses could latch onto--the suddenly green landscape blurring past the windows, the smell of Gabe's cologne and sweat, the taste of my own blood where I'd bitten the insides of my cheeks, the feel of the case of money heavy across my legs, and the music still blaring--  
  
...And now we're going tit for tat  
Until somebody draws blood.  
  
Save your soul  
before it's too late.  
Save your soul  
before it's too late.  
Save your soul  
before it's too late. __  
  
Somewhere in the confusing din, I could just make out Jack's voice yelling at me for laughing like a madman (was I still laughing? You'd think I'd remember laughing all the way up Lordship Road), Eddie agreeing as he pressed himself up against his door in an effort to distance himself from me in the backseat. Perhaps, for a moment, I was out of my mind. I was still laughing even as Gabe pulled off the road onto the springy soft grass beside it. Even as he killed the engine. I laughed even harder at the looks of hopeless confusion plastered across Jack and Eddie's faces as we watched Gabe climb out of the car.  
  
I did not laugh, however, when Gabe produced the gun seemingly out of nowhere.  
  
"Out of the car," he barked with a gruff authority I never knew he possessed. He wore it well. "Leave the money."  
  
There was a flurry of limbs as everyone attempted to comply with the demand. On our side of the car, shielded by its bulk, Gabriel grabbed my hand, threading his fingers through my own, and gave it a comforting squeeze. It was an odd gesture, paired with the steely glint in his eyes and clenched jaw. He ordered Jack and Eddie round the car and through a break in the fence separating the road from the reservoir. I watched in silent horror as Gabe, tugging me along by the hand, followed them through the bracken, gun still drawn and aimed squarely at Jack.  
  
Eddie tripped half a dozen times, stammering apologies for a transgression he wasn't aware of committing, attempting to smooth things over with Gabe. Jack, to his credit, stayed as stoic as ever.  
  
What happened next is still a jumble in my mind. Every time I think back on it, it's like trying to unravel a knotted ball of live earthworms. I'm still not sure if I'm remembering it in correct order or not. But best I can remember, Gabe ordered the guys to stop walking once we reached the edge of the reservoir. He still had his gun trained firmly on Jack, sqaure at his chest. Eddie was beside Jack, looking pallid and faint. We were standing so close to them, I could see his jaw wobbling.  
  
"Why, Gabby?" Jack asked, clear and even.  
  
"You know." Gabe's tone held an edge like a knife, sharp and steely.  
  
This is where the confusion happens for me. Because I know, intellectually, that Jack shielded himself with Eddie before the gun ever went off. But I swear to you, I hear the gunshot in my mind well before the back of Eddie's skull explodes outward. But I know it had to have happened in reverse. Jack shielded himself with Eddie a split second before Gabe pulled the trigger.  
  
Jack let the sack of meat that used to be Eddie fall to the ground and bolted--moved faster than I'd ever seen him move before. Gabe squeezed off two more shots, missing Jack’s retreating back completely. Slowly, Eddie's body rolled down the embankment before resting in the reservoir proper. Time seemed at a stand-still. A fine, scarlet mist hung in the air. There was a ringing in my ears. My nasal passages burned with the smell of gunpowder. I felt as though at any second, the earth would fall away from my feet and I'd be suspended in the crimson air for a moment before suddenly plummeting, like Wile E. Coyote.  
  
And then Gabe was tugging my hand--still joined with his own--cursing up a storm as he dragged me back to the old Ford.  
  
  
********************  
  
"What the hell was that!?" Eli all but screeches, as they trundle down the A10. He studies Gabe's profile--the fine spray of blood spatter dappled across his face like the shadows of leaves on the forest floor.  
  
"I'll fill ya in once I'm sure we ain't gonna be arrested." Gabe's fists twist on the steering wheel, the leather creaking beneath his palms. Eli's eyes flicker towards his hands at the sound, and he notices how tense Gabriel is--his knuckles white and bloodless, jaw clenched hard enough to grind his teeth together. He reaches a tentative hand out, strokes the inside of Gabe's left wrist with trembling fingers. Gabe relaxes just a fraction, and removes his hand entirely from the wheel to grasp Eli's.  
  
Eli watches him closely, attempting to figure out what's going on behind the impenetrable blue eyes that sweep across the bitumen like searchlights. A few hours later, they pull into a car park, where Gabe finally kills the engine with a heavy sigh. He sags back against his seat and holds their joined hands up, studying them in the dying evening light. Slowly, he brings their tangled fingers up to his lips and kisses softly over Eli's knuckles.  
  
"You've blood on your lip," he says quietly, dropping Eli's hand.  
  
Eli licks his finger, rubs roughly at his lip with it. "And you've blood on your...everywhere. It's absolutely everywhere."  
  
Gabe groans, flips down the sun visor to assess the damage in the tiny rectangular mirror. "Shit." Eli watches as he digs blindly under the driver's seat and finally produces a half empty bottle of water. Gabe makes quick work of washing his face with the water and one of the innumerable chamois cloths that litter the floor.  
  
"Better?", he asks at length.  
  
"Better," Eli agrees. He watches as Gabe ruffles his hair, his bright blue eyes sweeping across the carpark. Gabe fiddles with the rings on his fingers--the silver skull, one with a small glass doll eye in its setting, and a band containing a row of what has to be fake diamonds--rearranging them on different fingers. He relegates the diamond band to his left ring finger before pressing his upper back into his seat, lifts his hips to dig in the tight front pocket of his jeans, pulling from it a simple band of polished silver.  
  
"Anyone asks," he says, holding the ring out to Eli, "We're on our honeymoon, yeah?" Eli nods, slipping the ring on. He drops his trembling hand out of sight and takes a shaky breath. He hears the beads of Gabe's seat cover clicking, feels a warm and steady palm on his face, turning his head gently. "Hey, listen," Gabe says in a low voice, his thumb stroking over the stubble of Eli's jaw, "I didn't wanna have to do that back there. I didn't."  
  
"Then why did you?" Eli asks, his voice holding the quality of smoke--a weak mist pushed quickly into nothing by the light breeze stirred up by the car's heating system. He watches Gabe furrow his brow, bite hard at his lip, but an answer doesn't seem to be forthcoming. Eli sighs heavily, pulling the lever on his seat, pushing it all the way back. He rubs roughly at his face. The beads of Gabe’s seat cover make their clumsy music again, and he feels Gabe's solid little body clamber slowly into his lap, limb by limb, as he climbs over the centre console.  
  
"Eli," he breathes, fingers stroking his jaw, the warm press of lips against his cheeks, "They were gonna..." His words fall away, fingers curling loosely around Eli's neck, thumbs stroking his jaw. Eli opens his eyes and finds Gabe's averted gaze. He's biting his lip again and looking torn.  
  
"They were going to what?" Gabe plays nervously with the collar of Eli's coat. Eli looks down and realizes he's gripping Gabe's thighs, his fingers digging into the musculature. He's aware that the situation could be misconstrued by anyone who might happen to pass by the car.  
  
"I overheard them a couple nights ago," Gabe says in a quiet voice, his gaze somewhere around the vicinity of Eli's navel. "They were talking about nickin' the money from you." Eli's guts twist in his abdomen and sink heavy as stones. They wouldn't do that to him--would they? He thinks of the wife of every serial killer ever to terrorize a community, how all seem to claim they never knew they were sleeping next to the embodiment of evil every night. Anybody who never thought their lover would cheat on them, until proven otherwise. These things happen, and if we expected them to happen, they'd happen a lot less. And then there's Gabe--a man he met less than a month ago, whom he knows nothing about. What's his last name? Does he have siblings? Where does he even live?  
  
"Look me in the eyes and tell me."  
  
Gabe's head snaps up, the look on his face a mixture of confusion and hurt. But he keeps his gaze dead-centre on Eli's eyes as he says, "They weren't who you thought they were, Eli." He studies Gabe's face closely for signs of deception--something, anything--but his gaze is steady, if a bit hurt, and he seems uncomfortable just having to tell him this.  
  
Eli sighs, his gaze flickering to the sign hanging from the building over Gabe's shoulder--The Coach and Horses. "This it, then?"  
  
"What?" Gabe brow furrows and he follows Eli's gaze. "Oh. Yeah." He slides awkwardly out of Eli's lap, back into the driver's seat as every cell in Eli's body screams for him to come back. He pulls the keys from the ignition and ruffles his hair. "I'm gonna go get the room sorted, yeah?"  
  
"I'll just have a quick smoke."  
  
Gabe nods and opens his door. He's halfway out of the car before clambering back in to lean over the centre console once more, leaning in to kiss Eli. "Remember," he mumbles between the pressing of lips, "We're newlyweds, yeah."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I've got it." Eli mumbles, reaching a hand up to pull Gabe closer and grasping nothing but air as he pulls away with a grin, already crawling back out of the car. Eli sighs and follows him out into the chilly night air. He leans against the bonnet of the car, watching Gabe walk across the carpark and into the little reception area as he lights his cigarette. An attractive blonde is manning the desk, and he watches Gabe chat easily with her, just on the edge of flirtation. He can practically see the woman blush from all the way in the carpark, and feels a weird mix of envy and pride well up inside him--the most irrational part of his brain working in double time to make him feel at once jealous of this woman Gabe no doubt has zero interest in, and proud that someone so desirable would be interested in him.  
  
He turns away from the scene inside, bringing his attention to a wad of chewing gum pressed deep into the bitumen. He watches a large group of ants swarm it and wonders how they even expect to get it back to the colony.  
  
"Wotcher?" Gabe's voice sounds suddenly beside him, making him jump. Gabe laughs, wrapping an arm around Eli's waist and tucks his nose into the crook of his neck. "What're you thinking about, hmm?"  
  
"Ants chewing bubblegum." He feels Gabe's laughter more than hears it.  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Y-yeah." Eli stammers, Gabe suddenly swiping his tongue along the sensitive skin behind his ear.  
  
"You like that?" Gabe breathes, pressing his hips into him. Eli hums in answer, dropping his cigarette to the bitumen. "Help me bring the suitcases up to the room, yeah?"  
  
  
*****************  
  
Eli tries desperately to keep the elation of being greeted by the sight of the single bed in their room from showing on his face. Gabe had immediately dropped his big leather doctor’s bag onto the bed and is now flitting about the place, checking things out. Eli drops the suitcases on the far side of the room and pulls off his coat. He feels Gabe's hands on his hips and is pulled backwards into his embrace. Gabe's hands come round to unbutton his shirt as he rocks his hips against Eli. He pulls back for a moment, stripping Eli of his shirt, before his palm comes up to rest between his shoulder blades, pushing gently.  
  
"Walk." The quietly commanding voice from the night before is back, and Eli can't help but to obey.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Forward." Eli can hear the grin in his voice and turns slightly to shoot him a look. "To the bathroom."  
  
"What? Why?" he asks, even as his feet lead him forward. He comes to a stop in the middle of the cramped bathroom and feels Gabe's hands shoot immediately to his belt buckle.  
  
"Because," he mumbles into the bare skin of Eli's back, "we're gonna take a little shower."  
  
"Oh." His skin prickles, and he can feel his blush spread across his cheeks. Allowing Gabe to disrobe him, he shivers sporadically as Gabe touches each expanse of newly exposed skin. The slow trail of Gabe's fingertips is maddening and he wants nothing more than to turn around, but he stays still, shutting his eyes and allowing each touch to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. It seems as though Gabe's hands are everywhere at once--trailing down his back to squeeze and knead his arse, fingers stroking through his hair and tugging lightly, then trailing down and around to strip his trousers and pants from him. Eli lets his head fall back, lulling on his neck as Gabe strokes him to fullness. One of Gabe's hands trails its way up to Eli's chest, caressing. He tweaks his nipples and Eli's hips buck reflexively, eliciting a chuckle from Gabe, muffled partly by Eli's back.  
  
"What's this?" Gabe asks softly, voice throaty and low as he fingers the pendant hanging from Eli's neck.  
  
"A cross," he answers breathlessly. He feels a kiss being planted to his shoulder, the one marred by fairly extensive scarring--surprised when Gabe doesn't ask about it.  
  
"Kick your shoes off, yeah? And start the shower."  
  
Eli walks on shaky legs, doing as he's told. He looks over his shoulder at Gabe as the water pipes groan into life and sees him hastily shucking his coat from his shoulders, unbuckling his leather cuff. He notices Eli staring at him and grins, bringing his hands down to the hem of his shirt. His torso is exposed slowly, rib by rib. The shirt lands on the sink, Gabe's hands already unbuckling his belt as he kicks off his boots. The belt buckle cracks loudly against the tile of the bathroom floor when it falls from Gabe's hips.  
  
"Why ain't you in the shower yet?" he asks with a grin, toeing his socks off, his hands unfastening his jeans. Eli feels himself flush crimson and turns, clambering unsteadily into the tub and under the warm spray. When he turns back to Gabe, he discovers the younger man has already relieved himself of his ridiculous trousers and is palming himself through his even more ridiculous pink pants. He watches Gabe's eyes as they rove over his body, tries to keep his breathing even as Gabe pushes the little pants from his hips and steps out of them.  
  
He walks purposefully forward, his hands on Eli even before he's fully in the tub. Eli reaches out past him, pulling the shower curtain closed as Gabe's hand comes up, grasping at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. When the kiss is broken, Eli watches Gabe's gaze sweep around the small confined space, blinking water from his eyes. His face lights up suddenly, and he reaches forward to retrieve a small bottle of conditioner from the side of the tub, a triumphant grin on his face. He instructs Eli to brace himself against the wall with a wicked grin. Eli does as he's told, shivering at the feel of cool air against his wet skin. He can hear Gabe fighting with the quality seal on the bottle. His insides squirm with nervousness, itch with anticipation. A dollop of conditioner lands on the small of his back, making him jump. Gabe's fingers help it trail downwards, smears it between his arse cheeks thoroughly before retreating. He hears the squirt of the bottle again, and the sound of skin slapping skin. Eli finds himself pushing his hips back with something dangerously close to a whine, and feels Gabe's hand grasping at his hip.  
  
"Don't worry," Gabe breathes, stepping closer to him, "I've gotcha." He pulls at Eli's hips until his arse is stuck way out, his back arched almost painfully, wedging his cock between his cheeks, thrusting against skin. "Yeah," he moans softly, "Eli."  
  
Eli arches into it, gasping every time the head of Gabe's erection bumps clumsily against his hole, and he realizes he wants Gabe inside of him, would have let him had he wanted to. His hips jerk into the empty air and then press back into Gabe, into the easy slide of skin on skin. Gabe's slick hand wraps around him, stroking in time with his thrusts, pulling an appreciative sob from deep in his chest. They move together, breathing deep lungfuls of steam until Gabe's hips stutter, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gasps in shallow breaths against the damp skin of Eli's back, coming with a loud, long groan. He's still for a moment, gasping and nuzzling against Eli, only seeming to come to his senses once Eli's hips start pushing desperately into his hand, begging silently for his own release.  
  
Gabe chuckles breathlessly, beginning once more the rhythm he'd accidentally abandoned, twisting his wrist on the up stroke, licking and nibbling along Eli's back. "Come for me, Eli. I wanna hear you. Say my name when you come, yeah? I love how you say my name." Eli grunts, brow furrowed and jaw slack as he pushes roughly into Gabe's fist until finally he comes with a sobbed word he hopes is Gabe's name, a fist banging heavily against the tiled wall.  
  
He waits for Eli to come down from his high, stroking his skin softly, licking droplets of water from his back and shoulders, an arm still wrapped tightly around his middle. When Eli's finally steady on his own feet, Gabe steps back, in search of the shampoo.  
  
"Now," he says distractedly, once again fighting with the quality seal, "You're gonna let me wash your hair. 'Cause that barnet is _well_ filthy."


	7. 06. The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of sex and some character development. That's it.

_"For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns."_  
\--Aleister Crowley  
  
****  
  
 _"I don't wanna go to hell,_  
But if I do,  
It'll be 'cause of you,  
And a young man's  
Gonna make mistakes,  
Till he hits the brakes  
  
My heart's on fire,  
With a strange desire."  
\--The Black Keys, Strange Desire  
  
Eli's eyes open, slow as rusty shutters, letting the muted hues of pre-dawn slowly come into focus. The fog of sleep dissipating from his brain, he finds himself pressed into Gabriel's side. As he regains consciousness, he catalogs every point of contact between them--the way his nose is tucked comfortingly into the crook of Gabe's neck, his arm thrown over his small but sturdy chest. His own chest and stomach pressing into Gabe's side, warm and solid. His leg has found its way between Gabe's, his ankle hooked under Gabe's calf. Eli suddenly becomes very aware of two things at once; the first is his erection pressing hard into the outside of Gabe's thigh. The second is the pair of bright blue eyes watching him, twinkling with mirth.  
  
"Mornin', sunshine," Gabe chuckles, squeezing Eli round his shoulders. He runs his hand soothingly down Eli's arm to his elbow and back again.  
  
"Time's'it?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"Guess not," Eli shrugs, yawning. He feels Gabe extract the arm from around his shoulders, shifting down against the pillows until they're eye to eye. He feels Gabe's hand against his hip, rubbing slow circles, like one might do to calm a shying horse. Gabe presses his forehead to Eli's, his hand skirting upwards, fingertips hooked into the waistband of Eli's boxers. Slowly, as if trying not to startle him, Gabe tilts his face just a fraction, his lips brushing Eli's. Eli responds gradually, pressing tentative little kisses to Gabe's mouth until Gabe's tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. He finds himself opening up, freely allowing admittance, sucking at the thick muscle. Just as in the car, so many nights ago, Gabe moans in return, his fingers yanking Eli's boxers down over the swell of his arse.  
  
Eli gasps into Gabe's mouth, his grasp on the smaller man's shoulder tightening. His hips rock on their own accord, back into the heat of Gabe's palm, then forward, pressing his straining erection against the stirring hardness in Gabe's tiny pants. Kneading at the soft flesh of his bum, Gabe trails little nipping bites across Eli's jaw, down his neck to his shoulder. The only sounds that reach Eli's ears are the bedsheets rustling as they move, his own harsh breaths, and the low growling sounds Gabe emits from the back of his throat. They rock in unison, their hips pressed firmly together. Gabe's fingers trail softly between Eli's arse cheeks once, twice, then delve deeper, brushing over his puckered hole.  
  
"Gabe," Eli pants, his fingers coming up to tangle in, and then tug sharply at, the hair at Gabe's nape.  
  
Gabe nips at his lower lip once, softly, then a bit harder, smacking him sharply on the arse, mumbling, "On your front, Eli."  
  
Dutifully, Eli rolls over onto his stomach, feeling the bed dip a bit as Gabe hangs off the side, rummaging through his leather bag. Eli silently wills himself to calm, presses his cheek hard into the unfamiliar pillow beneath his head, listening to Gabe settle behind him. Palms reach out, gripping a cheek each, massaging slow circles into skin. Eli arches into it, rocking his hips against the mattress. Another slap, firmer now, lands on pale flesh, making him inhale sharply.  
  
"None of that," Gabe's voice is low, nearly a whisper, and husked. "If you come, it's 'cause I got you there. Not the furniture."  
  
Eli flushes hot all over, skin prickling. Outside the window, the sun is just beginning to crown over the horizon, throwing pale, weak light over them--exposing their deeds. He lifts his hips up, breath quickening in anticipation, and bends his knees a bit to keep himself supported. He feels exposed, a tiny pebble of shame growing in his belly that feels as though it could blossom into a tumor at any moment. If the embarrassment doesn't kill him, he's fairly sure the pleasure will be his end--these tongues of fire licking up and down his spine, threatening to immolate him until he's nothing but cinders and ash sullying the crisp white hotel sheets. He realizes Gabe hasn't really done anything yet and he's already been reduced to a ball of wanton nerves. The pebble grows to a boulder.  
  
Gabriel presses dry little kisses to the small of his back, the graze of his lips growing wetter as his mouth trails down to the base of his spine, tongue swirling around the bone. He bites softly at each of Eli's cheeks, his tongue snaking wetly between. Eli's breath leaves him in a loud rush, and he pushes back against Gabe's whirling tongue, fighting to gain some composure even as his eyes are stinging with--well, apparently this morning God is just a merciless as Gabriel because Eli finds himself actually sweating. Sweating, face down in a pillow as his male lover fucks him ruthlessly with his tongue. Great. Wonderful.  
  
Gabe pulls back, the cool air in his absence making Eli shudder. He feels Gabe spreading him open with one hand, the sound of a bottle being uncapped loud as gunfire in the quiet of their room. Eli jumps, hissing air in through his teeth at the sudden spurt of cold gel dripping down the cleft of his arse. He feels the tip of Gabe's finger picking up where his tongue left off, circling round and round until it slips in, just to the first knuckle. Again, he wills himself to relax and pushes back against it. Gabe takes his time, sinking in slowly, knuckle by knuckle. First finger fully engulfed, he pauses for a moment before stroking in and out, a shallow rhythm a first, deepening as Eli relaxes around him. He only adds the second finger once Eli starts fucking himself on the first in earnest. Eli feels as though he's been on his face for years, thinks for a moment of just telling Gabe to forget it, that they can just find some other way to get off because if he doesn't come within the next few minutes, he might actually--  
  
"Oh, god," Eli pants, as Gabe's fingertips brush his prostate. He pushes back impatiently, attempting to make Gabe touch that spot again and again and--"Again, more. Please."  
  
Gabe chuckles, pulling his fingers out almost completely, lining up the third. He works diligently, making sure Eli is well and truly ready. Finally satisfied, he pulls his fingers free. Eli makes a noise of protest into his pillow.  
  
"Just 'ang on, mate," Gabe chuckles again, rustling around in the bedsheets, "Gotta get a johnny."  
  
Eli turns his head against the pillow, lifting it to watch Gabe tear open the little square of foil with his crooked teeth and roll the condom on. "Mate? I think we're a bit past that now, aren't we?" he jokes feebly, his voice shaky and raw.  
  
"Alright, then. Hang on a minute, bitch." Gabe teases.  
  
Eli can't help it. He grins.  
  
He allows Gabe to reposition him, laying on his side facing the sun rising through the window. He's got one leg bent--knee practically to his chest. Gabe arranges himself behind him, actually wedges an arm underneath him while his free hand lines himself up with Eli's entrance. The stretch and burn as he slowly pushes in is startling, and Gabe pauses, fully enveloped, waiting for Eli to stop trembling. Gabe's arm snakes around him, over the arm holding his leg in place, his hand resting in the middle of Eli's chest, pulling him closer, kissing over the scars etched into his shoulder. Eli makes a noise in the back of his throat--not a whine, he will not whine for anyone, refuses--and Gabe responds with a short thrust. He shuffles down, his face level with Eli's shoulderblades, and props himself up on the arm still pinned underneath Eli's wiry frame.  
  
"Next time," Gabe grunts, finding his rhythm, "I'm fucking you to music."  
  
This time, Eli really doesn’t whine--it's an undeniable _whimper_ that escapes his parted lips, his brow furrowing as he rocks back to meet Gabe's deep thrusts. Gabe's hand slides up Eli's sweaty chest and grasps him by the neck--not squeezing, just holding. Eli moans, turning his head to press his face into the pillow. His hips stutter and he lets go of his knee to grasp his straining cock. He tries to match his strokes to the flow of Gabe's hips-- quickly pulling out almost entirely, sinking in slowly--and to twist his wrist every time Gabe rolls his hips, and he almost outright sobs when he realizes he's unable to handle his body as well as Gabe can.  
  
Gabe runs his hand down Eli's torso, fingers interlocking with Eli's around his shaft. Eli grasps Gabe's wrist, moving his hand back up to his neck. Gabe grins, peppering bites across the skin of Eli's back, his fingers gently squeezing his neck. The pressure is sparse and intermittent, just shy of feeling truly threatening, but it's enough. It's enough.  
  
Eli comes undone, his mouth full of cotton, his release so sudden it's almost painful. Through the thick haze clogging up his head, he feels the hand on his neck release its grip, Gabe pushing his limp body forwards, until his stomach is flush with the mattress. Gabe pushes into him roughly, hands gripping his shoulders hard, chasing the edge. His breath is ragged, audible even over the pounding of Eli's pulse in his ears. Vulgar praises ghost across the damp skin at the nape of Eli's neck, raising gooseflesh. Eli reaches back, awkwardly grasping at Gabe's hip, spurring him on.  
  
Every rough thrust of Gabe's hips makes Eli bear down on the pillow that much harder, the sharp edge of a molar catching the barely healed lesion caused by his father's punch, opening it up again, flooding his mouth with the sharp taste of copper. Gabe pulls out quickly, practically ripping the condom off to come on the gently sweeping curve of Eli's lower back with a loud moan that lands somewhere between Eli's name and some wordless cry. His compact yet sturdy body crumples against Eli's back. He brushes the curls off Eli's forehead with a gentle hand, stroking down the back of his skull, his neck, fingers digging soothingly into the tense musculature of his shoulder.  
  
"Alright?", Gabe asks, voice strained, gravelly. He continues to touch Eli's skin softly, fingertips brushing along the length of his bent arm, entwining their fingers when their hands meet. Kisses rain down on his back, soft and light as feathers. Eli's jaw aches uncomfortably as he releases the pillow, sticky strings of blood connecting his lips to damp cotton as he lifts his face to the scrutiny of dawn's omniscient light.  
  
"Little sore," he croaks, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his ears. Body heavy, he drops his face back into the pillow with a dull thump. Gabe laughs, pushes himself up off Eli, and tells him not to move--he'll be right back. Eli feels laid bare in every sense, his body aching. Images flash unbidden behind his eyelids: the hard, cold look in Gabe's eyes as he forced them out of the car at gunpoint. Eddie begging for his life. The carnage Gabe left in his wake by the reservoir. The way he calmly ushered himself and Eli out of the situation, flirted with the receptionist when he got their room key. The look in his eyes, moments ago, his gaze traipsing over Eli's exposed body, ravenous. How he had opened Eli up slowly, filled his hollow spaces so intuitively, so perfectly. How he held him after, touched him with such reverence.  
  
The taps are running in the en suite bathroom, water on porcelain. Eli feels something welling up inside of him. A roiling in his stomach, a pressure in his chest. It burns a trail up his throat, and for a fearful moment, he's sure he's about to vomit. The tears come in a rush, falling freely into the soiled pillow, eyelashes catching on linen. The mattress dips beside him as Gabe climbs back in bed, settles on his knees between Eli's legs. He feels a warm, wet flannel being swept over his skin, Gabriel cleaning him tenderly, and a sob rattles in his throat.  
  
The flannel stills. "Eli? Eli?....Elias?" Gabe's voice is just shy of panicked as he forcibly rolls Eli over with previously undisclosed strength. Eli's eyes are screwed shut, lips parted in a grimace, his brow deeply furrowed. Gabe descends on him, holding him close as physically possible. He weaves their legs together, his hands stroking through Eli's curls slow and gentle as he whispers soft, small words and phrases against his skin. Things like _Okay. Shhh. Okay. You're fine. I've got you. You're safe, darlin'. Okay. Okay. Let it out. It's fine._  
  
Eli begins to regain composure after what feels to him like a lifetime. His fingers are stiff where he's been clutching at Gabe's shoulders. His head hurts, eyes sting. Everything is sore. And all the while, Gabriel continues to murmur soft reassurances-- _alright, darlin', you're safe, you're safe_ \-- hands stroking over skin. He kisses Eli's forehead and promises to return before once again climbing out of bed. Eli throws a bent arm over his face, completely exhausted. Gabe returns with a plastic cup full of water, filled from the tap in the bathroom, and a Paracetamol. He kneels next to Eli, encouraging him to sit up. Eli knocks back the pill and all the water in one go, lets Gabe take the little plastic cup from his shaky grip to refill once, twice more. His shaking has subsided for the most part, but he still feels raw all over. More like he's been hit by a car than the best orgasm he's ever had in his life.  
  
He chances a surreptitious glance over at Gabe and doesn't see any judgement amid the knife-point features, just concern. "Alright?" Gabe asks finally, looking at him as though his head might spontaneously combust at any moment. Eli lets a long gust of air out through his nose, allows his sore body to fall gently back onto the mattress.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry about that." He rubs briskly at his face, noting the stubble. He wonders vaguely if Gabe happens to have a shaving kit on him. "About yesterday..." he says suddenly, surprising even himself.  
  
"Yeah. About that..." Gabe trails off, his words dying away. He reaches over Eli's prone form and plucks the packet of cigarettes and the lighter off the nightstand. He waves them weakly towards Eli. "Think we could both use one of these about now. But we have to smoke on the balcony, yeah?"  
  
Eli nods, hefting himself up with a bit of difficulty. They dress hastily, Eli with his shirt inside out. It's cool on the balcony, the sun only newly risen. Eli pulls on his fingerless gloves as Gabe lights two cigarettes in one go, passes one off to him. Eli leans on the railing, legs shaky as he takes the first deep pull from the cigarette. He watches as Gabe sucks his own fag end with the trepidatious longing Eli immediately recognizes as that of a reformed smoker. "About yesterday," he says again, quieter now, "...were...were they really planning on...doing that?"  
  
"Look, mate, I didn't wanna have to tell you your friends were crooks--"  
  
"We were robbing a bank together."  
  
"Crooked crooks, then. My point is, I couldn't let them do that to you, yeah?"  
  
"Why not?" Eli asks before he decides if he wants to know the answer.  
  
"Why not what?"  
  
"Why not just do us all in and take the money for yourself?"  
  
Gabe shrugs in a fluid motion, takes another pull from his cigarette. "I like you. Dunno why, I just do. Maybe I just wanna see how this goes, yeah?"  
  
Eli can feel the blush creeping into his cheeks, and turns his head. "Fair enough."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"About that in there," Gabe nods his head towards their room, the bed. "Can't tell me I was so good I brought tears to your eyes, because--and I ain't braggin' when I say this, mate--that weren't even some of my best work in there, that."  
  
Eli, once again, succumbs to a helpless fit of laughter before sobering again. He keeps his eyes trained on the grass far below them as he speaks. "I don't think I'm quite ready for your best yet, if that wasn't it." A long pause, another drag. "It's hard to explain."  
  
"Nah, it ain't, mate. Not really." Gabe says softly. He crushes his fag end out on the balcony's railing. "Way I figure, you've been on the run since long before yesterday."  
  
Eli turns his head to gape at Gabriel, whose own gaze is somewhere far off in the distance. He wonders again if he should trust him. This kid with the smart mouth and the infallible insight and the ability to gun down a man he hardly knows. He thinks back on all the other people he's ever put his trust in. His parents. Different teachers throughout his life. Neighbors, friends, colleagues. All of them disappointments in one way or another. Clearly, he thinks, his judgement has never been the best. The way he figures it, putting his trust in Gabe has two possible results. Either this is the one time in the history of his life that he's made a good choice, or...he'll end up dead in a reservoir somewhere, with one of Gabe's bullets in his head. He could, he realizes, end up dead anyway, if he doesn't get Michael's money to him soon. How many times is one allowed to cheat death before death becomes vengeful?  
  
Looking at Gabe's profile slicing into the horizon, he decides finally just to trust him. After all, he can't trust himself--he's clearly gone insane.


	8. 07. The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward attempts at seduction, shopping, more driving and a hint of an identity crisis.

_"Lord, help me to be pure. But not yet."_  
\--Saint Augustine of Hippo  
  
 __  
We stayed in bed a few hours longer, after we finished our cigarette. Gabe had come back into the room, kicking his boots off as he stripped his coat from his tense frame. As I watched him walk to the bed, I was reminded of tigers starving in cages, of beasts hungry in the underbrush, waiting to pounce on the first thing to move within sight. He started rearranging the pillows--propping them against the headboard in a neat pile--and saw him notice my blood smeared deep into the fabric, though he didn't say anything about it. He sat back against the pillows, stretching out his legs. He spread them invitingly, his gaze steady on my face, patting the space between his knees.  
  
It was an awkward fit, lying on my back between his legs, my head resting on his bony sternum as he flipped distractedly through the television channels. My shoulders were tense and I was straining my neck in my attempt not to completely crush him. But as he stroked his fingers through my hair, I found myself relaxing, felt the tension in Gabe's body beneath me slipping away. My head lolled, loose on my neck as he continued to play with my hair, his fingers dipping past my nape to brush down the length of my neck. I hummed contentedly, melting into his embrace.  
  
His fingers skimmed down over my collarbone and into the front of my shirt, brushing softly at my nipple. I grasped his wrist to stop him, yet couldn't find it in me to pull his hand from my shirt. "I'm still too sore for...anything." I said softly.  
  
I felt him press a kiss to my temple, mumbling, "Don't wanna fuck. I just want to touch you," softly against my skin. I released his wrist, allowing him to continue his ministrations. His fingertips circled lightly over my nipple, raising it, and pinched it lightly before moving on to the other. My breath hitched and I wriggled against him a bit. He chuckled, his fingers moving over my stomach before pressing his warm palm flat against my skin, arms wrapped possessively around me. I felt myself hovering just on the edge of light sleep, only to keep jerking myself back into consciousness, wanting to fully enjoy the feeling of being wanted, protected.  
  
"We should probably get downstairs before breakfast is over," he murmured softly, his fingertip circling the ridge of my navel. I could feel the beginnings of an erection pressing into the small of my back.  
  
"M'not moving." I mumbled back, suddenly aware of my palms slowly stroking up and down his thighs.  
  
"Don't be silly. We've got a big day ahead of us," he said brightly, removing his hand from my shirt. Carefully, I turned myself over until I was lying on my stomach between his legs, holding my upper body up with my forearms on either side of his slim hips.  
  
"What 'big day'?"  
  
"Our first day on the run." He grinned, hooking his ankle over the back of my knee. "There's a lot we've gotta do."  
  
I groaned, dropping my head against him, and breathed in his scent. I meant what I said about not wanting to move--and more. Soreness be damned, I wanted him again. I just couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. I tried a couple of times, my face hidden in the stripes of his shirt, but the words felt inelegant and foreign against my tongue. It struck me fully for the first time just how much smaller than me he was, pinned there beneath me. Words having failed me, I silently slipped further down his body, the rustle of our clothes nearly deafening, rivalling the volume of the TV. He watched me with bemused curiosity, looking down his nose at me with a cocked eyebrow as I began to move against him, mouthing at the skin of his stomach through his shirt, rocking my chest against the stirring hardness in his jeans.  
  
He threw his head back and laughed, kicking me gently in the arse with a socked foot. "Quit rubbin' your tits on me."  
  
I felt my face drop. "I don't have tits, thank you very much." I pushed his shirt up with my thumbs, and rubbed my face against the exposed skin, coarse, wiry hair tickling my nose. "Gabe."  
  
"Eli." His tone was flat and unwavering. "C'mon. Breakfast. Now."  
  
I sighed, and resigned myself to the fact that, while I may be physically stronger than Gabe, my will was all too ready to bend to his. I stood up, allowing Gabe to take me by the hand and lead me to the restaurant downstairs, his hiding behind the jacket draped a little too casually before him the shallowest of victories.  
  
************  
  
Much to Eli's chagrin, breakfast passes without incident. He's unsure of what he was expecting, or wanting, as it seems unlikely Gabe would bend him over their table in the crowded dining hall. The unlikeliness of the scenario did nothing to quell his disappointment, though. They had sat side by side at their table, holding hands as they ate. Gabe had leaned in close as Eli dipped a corner of his toast into his broken egg yolk and said in a low voice, "Y'know what we should do when we're done eatin'?"  
  
"Go back to our room?" Eli asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Gabe squeezed his hand and chuckled delightedly.  
  
"We should buy us some clothes. Can't just keep wearin' these."  
  
Which is how Eli finds himself now in T.K. Maxx with a pocket full of stolen money in the middle of busy Vancouver Quarter, attempting not to look too put out or sketchy.  
  
"What about this one?" Gabe asks, holding out a blue and white checked shirt.  
  
"Uh, fine. I guess." Eli rubs at his temple, watching as Gabe flits around, heaping things into their trolley, which Eli has been tasked with pushing. Gabe has promised straight after clothes shopping, they'll go to Super Drug for the essentials--toothbrushes, deodorant and the like. But now, he seems perfectly content with treating Eli as his very own over-grown dolly--holding different shirts up to his chest, asking which he likes better and ignoring any preferences Eli may show by simply tossing both options into the trolley.  
  
The grateful thought that Gabe hasn't picked out anything too flashy or appalling for him crosses his mind, and is immediately proven false when Gabe turns up at his elbow, tossing two fistfuls of boxer briefs in various colours and patterns onto their mound of merchandise. Eli can tell by the size of the pants they're not meant for Gabe.  
  
"Whoa there!" Eli holds his hand up, grasping at Gabe's shoulder before he can go bounding off again, deeper into the bowels of discount shopping hell. "I'm not wearing those."  
  
"Of course you're not--they're in the trolley. You'll wear them when we get back to our room."  
  
Eli levels his gaze at him, aiming for menacing, and lands squarely on put-out husband, which works well for their ruse. Gabe grins at him, the tip of his tongue sliding over the point of his sharp canine, and slides his arms around Eli's middle, pulling him close.  
  
"C'mon, Eli," Gabe hums against the shell of his ear, his breath stirring Eli's curls, "You'll look dead sexy in the black pair."  
  
Eli, eyeing the black boxer briefs with their red stitching and almost certainly skin tight fit, somehow doubts that he'll look like anything other than a right prat in what he can only term 'male knickers'. But it's hard to care about any of that with Gabe's hands on him once more, his lips pressing chaste little kisses against the stubble of his jaw.  
  
"C'mon, Eli," he breathes again, hands sliding up to grasp his shoulders.  
  
"Fine." Eli sighs, eyeing the pants wearily.  
  
"Genius!" Gabe beams, pressing two excited, smacking kisses to Eli's lips in quick succession. He turns to go in search of another armful of various fabric monstrosities, and before Eli can even think to stop himself he pulls Gabe back to him. Eli brings their faces together, a hand at the back of Gabe's neck, and kisses him deeply, the lingering taste of pancake syrup sweet on Gabe's tongue. He pulls back after a long moment, breath a tad quicker. Resting his head against Gabriel's, he clears his throat and says in a low voice, "Perhaps, uh...we should change our um...the way we look. You know. Since we're on the run."  
  
There's something in Gabe's eyes that confuses Eli for a moment before it finally dawns on him--Gabe's impressed. "Yeah," he nods, sucking at his own bottom lip, "Yeah, s'a good idea." He clasps Eli's hand, pulling his wrist up close to his face, examining the face of his watch. "We should hurry this up--gotta get on the road again before it gets too late."  
  
Eli sighs and takes a step back. He pulls the wad of cash from his coat pocket and passes it to Gabe. "I need a smoke."  
  
Gabe nods again, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of Eli's mouth before steering the trolley slowly towards the lady at the till.  
  
***********  
 __  
There was only a quick intermission for us between packing and getting back on the road, during which Gabe pulled many articles of clothing from shopping bags fit to burst, showing me each one with all the pride of a new father. He declared my idea to change our appearances was 'genius', as he'd been meaning to switch up his look for a while. I pulled some of my own new clothes from a bag as he did this--a long sleeved shirt, pair of jeans, socks, and that damn pair of black boxer briefs with the red stitching.  
  
I made my way to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Toeing my trainers off, I carefully kept my eyes away from the mirror to my right, focussing instead on the tub directly in front of me as I unbuttoned my shirt. I winced in slight discomfort as I pulled the fabric off my shoulders and down my arms, turning awkwardly in front of the mirror until it threw back at me the reflection of the back of my shoulder, where the slightly bruised impressions of Gabe's teeth had taken up residence. I stared at the bite mark for a long time, a confusing swirl of emotion stirring in my gut like a tornado threatening to touch down. A mixture of shame at what I'd let happen to me, a strange sense of pride. There, on my shoulder, a reminder of what had happened, tangible evidence of the abandon we were lost in. When most of the people in the city were only just waking up, he and I were wandering somewhere beyond rational thought, where there's nothing but the desire to own something so transitory, you'd have a better chance of catching smoke in cupped hands--  
  
"Eli?" Gabe rapped at the door with his knuckles. "C'mon, mate. I'd like to head back out before it gets dark, yeah?"  
  
I cleared my throat, shucked off my trousers. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."  
  
Pulling on the new pants, I stood awkwardly on tiptoe, attempting to catch a glimpse of myself in the tiny mirror above the sink. My suspicions were confirmed, from what I could see--I looked bloody ridiculous. I slid into the rest of my new clothing quickly, not wanting to keep Gabe waiting any longer than necessary. He was waiting for me by the foot of the bed, holding the new pair of boots he'd picked out for me--plain, camel coloured work boots. He looked gorgeous, as always. His black skinnies hugged him tightly, silver pointy-toed boots shimmering softly in the midafternoon light. A leather jacket was laid out on the bed, next to my new coat, and his upper half was covered--barely--by a sheer black top, printed with big white skulls. I stepped closer, and could see the flat plain of his chest and stomach through the material.  
  
I grasped the hem and looked down at him. "Is this a blouse?"  
  
He shrugged. "So what. I liked it, so I bought it."  
  
I dropped the flimsy material from my grasp and picked up my new coat, pulling it on slowly as I watched the chiffon glide over his skin. "You'll catch your death **[in that](http://i1313.photobucket.com/albums/t545/Saint_Li/gabeiii_zpsde2bc240.png)** , out there in the cold."  
  
"So I'll zip my jacket. S'no big deal." He set about giving the room one last once-over, making sure we weren't forgetting anything. "And never mind all that--you look well fit, yeah? Knew you'd suit **[a henley](http://i1313.photobucket.com/albums/t545/Saint_Li/eliiii_zpscc38f9e1.png)**. Shows off your shoulders."  
  
I could feel myself blushing and pulled my boots on to stall having to reply. His shadow fell over my boots as I hunched to lace them up. I looked up to see his hands coming at me, fingers deftly pulling my cross pendant out of my shirt to put on display. I heard him mutter, "Always hidin' something," ruefully under his breath.  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" I mumbled back. My fingers itched to touch him. I started working on the laces of my other boot instead. An answer wasn't forthcoming, anyhow. I heard the jingle of car keys, the rustle of shopping bags.  
  
"I'm gonna start taking things to the car, yeah?" he said, pausing at the open doorway. I nodded, surreptitiously watching the way the new jeans hugged his round little arse as he disappeared into the evening.  
  
****************  
  
Gabe's jacket is, unsurprisingly, unzipped as he makes his way out of the reception area, strolling languidly towards the car where Eli waits. He has a huge grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eye like he's got something he just can't wait to share with Eli on the tip of his tongue. Eli hasn't long to wait to hear it, Gabe sliding fluidly into the driver's seat, turning over the engine with the flick of a wrist.  
  
"Get this, right," he says in a low voice, as though there were anyone around to overhear them, "One of the cleanin' ladies saw your blood on the pillow, yeah? And so that nice blonde at the desk gave me the number to a help line."  
  
"That's not funny." Eli says, pulling his cigarettes from his coat pocket as Gabe pulls out of their parking space, making his way carefully out of the car park.  
  
"It is knowin' it ain't _my_ blood on the pillow." His free hand snakes over the centre console, along the length of Eli's thigh and between his slightly spread legs where the packet of cigarettes lay. "It's funny knowin' it's _you_ what got roughed up--and that you got off on it," he adds in a low voice, fingertips brushing against Eli's zip before retreating with the pilfered cigarettes in tow.  
  
Eli can feel the color rising on his cheeks, and squirms uncomfortably in his seat. "Must you?"  
  
"Must _you_?" Gabe shoots back, his eyes level on the road as he lights his cigarette. "There ain't no shame in it, mate. People can't help what they like. Plus, you're good at it, yeah?"  
  
"Good at laying face down in a pillow. And crying after. Great. I'll make sure to put that on my CV," Eli mutters dryly, his cheeks on fire.  
  
Gabe chucks his half smoked cigarette out the window, his now free hand reaching out for him. He squeezes Eli’s thigh affectionately before his hand comes in contact with his, threading their fingers together. "You're good at takin' what's dealt ya. With a little guidence, of course." He fails to keep the humour from his voice on the last bit, and Eli almost snatches his hand away. Almost.  
  
"Yeah, about that..."  
  
"Yeah?" He can see Gabe smirking out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Not _that_ , that. About taking what's coming." Eli takes a steadying breath, throwing out his spent fag end. "Jack's still out there somewhere."  
  
"I know," Gabe sighs, all mirth gone from his tone. "Prob'ly not very happy 'bout getting shot at, neither."  
  
"No, probably not." There's a long pause, nothing but the radio playing low, somehow underscoring the silence between them, making it more apparent and heavy. Eli takes Gabe's hand in both of his. "So?" he asks at last.  
  
"So?" Gabe parrots back, his voice quiet and flat. "So we cross that bridge when we get to it, mate. Ain't exactly like he's innocent in all of this, either."  
  
Eli lets out the breath he wasn't even aware of holding and sinks back against his seat, watching the landscape blur past, Gabe's hand both anchoring him to his harsh reality and steering him through it.


	9. 08. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With just a hint of plot fuel!

_"I promise you, no one judges me more harshly than I do myself; I caused a brilliant wreckage. Some say I fell from grace; they're being kind. I didn't fall--I dove."_  
\--Sue Monk Kidd, _The Mermaid Chair_  
 __  
I woke up in an unfamiliar car park three hours later, the car still on and the driver seat empty. My head felt fit to burst, a dizzying pressure building up and tugging at the seams. I took long, slow breaths through my nose, expelling them at the same pace through my mouth. My stomach growled loudly, gurgling uncomfortably. I realized Gabe and I had skipped lunch somewhere between dropping close to two grand at T.K. Maxx and the near-empty carpark that surrounded me. A motion in the corner of my eye caught my attention--Gabe coming out of the building we were parked behind, his jacket still unzipped. He strolled casually toward my side of the car, hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked into his belt loops.  
  
I rolled down my window, which he promptly wedged his upper body through, wrapping his arms around my neck. "Got us another room," he breathed against my temple, "Help me bring our stuff up and we'll go eat, yeah?"  
  
"Where are we?" I asked groggily, turning my face a fraction to nuzzle at his jaw.  
  
"Stockton," he hummed, tipping his chin up, exposing his neck. I pressed my face into it, kissed him gently at the base of his throat and was rewarded by the sound of a small gasp. I tangled my fingers in his hair, about to kiss him again when his words finally sank in.  
  
"Wait, Stockton?" I asked, pulling back, his hair still looped round my fingers, "As in Stockton-on-Tees?"  
  
"One and the same," he murmured, fingers tugging at my jacket collar. I wanted to ask why Stockton, but found my mouth suddenly occupied--Gabe holding the back of my neck as he kissed me. "Let's bring the stuff up now, yeah?" he breathed against me, pressing a series of gentle kisses to my lips before carefully slipping back out through the window. I sighed, suddenly thankful for the long jacket I was wearing, and followed him out.  
  
It took two trips, but we managed to get all our new clothes and the briefcases full of money up without completely freezing ourselves to death. I dropped Gabe's doctor's bag at the foot of the bed and blew hot puffs of air over my fingers, attempting to warm them. Gabe came out of the bathroom just then, and smirked at me. "Cold?" he asked, stepping towards me. I nodded, continuing my attempts at getting feeling back in my fingers. I heard him chuckle, watched as he reached out and pulled me closer by my belt loops. He grasped my hands and brought them behind him, pushing them into the back pockets of his jeans. "Better?"  
  
"Y-yeah," I stuttered, my fingers twitching against the rough denim.  
  
"G'on," he urged softly, his nose bumping against my jaw. I gave his arse an experimental squeeze, coaxing a little hum from his mouth. I groped a bit harder and he laughed, pressing his hips into mine. "That's it." He rocked into me, his fingers threading the buttons on my jacket through. "You wearin' 'em?"  
  
"What?" I rasped, still kneading the firm flesh of his bottom, my heart beating faster as he stripped my jacket from me, fingers grasping the hem of my shirt. I hesitantly pulled my hand from his pockets, lifting my arms to better allow the shirt to be peeled from me. My necklace was cold as ice as it landed softly on my bare skin. My hands immediately shot back to his arse, which made him chuckle.  
  
"The pants," he smirked, leaning in to kiss me, "Are you wearin' the pants?" He kissed and licked his way down my neck, the question getting lost for a moment between the feel of his erection pressing into me through the fabric of our trousers and nip of his teeth against my collarbone.  
  
"Yes," I hissed through gritted teeth as he bit and sucked my nipple to hardness, "I am."  
  
I felt him grin against my skin before he pulled back, his gaze dark and heavy upon my face. "C'mon, lemme see."  
  
Blushing, I toed my boots off, unfastened my jeans with trembling fingers. I could feel him watching intently, his gaze traveling over me as my heart beat faster, my cock twitching against its restriction. I pushed the jeans down off my hips and stepped out of them, standing there awkwardly as his eyes roamed over me, appraising. He tongued the point of his canine tooth and stepped closer, nodding to himself. He circled round me, fingers dancing across my skin.  
  
"Were you right?" I asked finally, as his hands stroked over my shoulders and down my back.  
  
"I usually am, mate," he chuckled, hands coming round to stroke me though the pants. I made some embarrassing, involuntary noise in the back of my throat, pressing my hips forward into his palm. He laughed softly once more, pinched my backside with his free hand. "Get on the bed. On your back, yeah?"  
  
I did as I was asked, crawling onto the middle of the bed with slightly shaking limbs, flipping onto my back. My pants stuck to the head of my erection, where it was leaking steadily. I wondered somewhere in the still-functioning part of my mind what he'd do to me, my skin buzzing with the premonition of possible touches. He kept his eyes on me as he peeled off his jacket. It made a dull thump _against the floor where it fell as he toed off his boots and reached forward, yanked my socks off and threw them down with the rest of my clothes. He grasped my ankles, pulling my legs part to crawl between. Laying on his stomach, propped up on an elbow, face centimetres from my groin, he leered up at me, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. His hand came out to stroke me again, the touch muted through the soft fabric, his fingers dipping lower to brush over my testicles._  
  
"You've been gaggin' for it all day, haven't ya?" he asked softly, dropping his head to mouth at me through the pants. I cursed low under my breath, hips jerking towards the wet heat of his mouth as I grasped the headboard, afraid if I touched him, I'd hurt him. "Haven't ya?" he asked again, the vibration of the question buzzing against me.  
  
"Yes, yes." My grip tightened on the slats of the headboard, lifting my hips as he prised my pants down. My cock lolled full and heavy against my stomach, a thin string of precum stretching between my skin and the head, and then breaking as Gabe gave me a few long, slow strokes. My every nerve felt like the physical embodiment of radio static as he gently pushed back my foreskin, licked around the head. My legs moved of their own volition, feet rubbing against the duvet beneath us. My toe brushed his denim clad thigh, and before I could think, I found myself asking, "Why aren't you naked?"  
  
It might've been a sexy question, if I hadn't sounded like a confused toddler. Gabe pulled off me with a pop _and cackled loudly. "You're eager, ain't ya?" He sat up and repositioned himself, a bony knee on either side of my hips. Looming above, I saw his eyes flick briefly to my hands--still grasping the headboard--before trailing down my body. "Look at ya," he all but purred, hands roving across my chest. "I bet," he continued softly, eyes following the trail of his fingers, "When people see us out together, they think it's you what would be in my position, yeah? They'd think I'd be the one on my back, all pleadin' with my eyes, heart beatin' out my chest." My cock twitched; he noticed, and grinned wider._  
  
I watched him squeeze himself through his jeans, fingertips dancing along his length, his eyes still locked on mine as he popped the button on his skinnies, pulled the zip. I found myself letting go of the headboard to lean up on my elbows. The smell of him--that car smell of motor oil and leather, his cologne, the musky scent of his excitement--made my mouth water as he pulled himself free, his erection jutting out between flaps of fabric. I watched my hand trail up his thigh, my fingers trembling. His hands were in my hair, tugging gently, stroking through my curls. I grasped the base of his cock, my 'wedding ring' glinting back at me in the soft illumination of the bedside lamp. He knee-walked closer to me, the rise and fall of his stomach with each shallow breath visible through his poor excuse of a shirt--the skulls grinning at me.  
  
"You get off on it, don't ya?" he asked softly. His hand came down and grasped my wrist. I watched as he moved my hand and up and down along his length, stopping just shy of the head each time. He let go of my wrist, and I continued the pace he'd set, surprised when he then placed his fingers lightly over my knuckles like a hand on an Ouija board planchette. "You're always hidin' stuff away, yeah? And this is just another form of that. And it makes it that much more exciting, knowing you could _pin me down and fuck me senseless. But you can't, can you?"_  
  
He was right, of course. It was exciting, not knowing what would happen next. And more than that, these moments spent with him where I was placed firmly in the passenger's seat--literally and figuratively--where I didn't have to make any decisions, just let myself be driven along winding roads without even the benefit of a map… these were the moments where I felt freer than I'd ever been in my life. And yet underneath all this safety and freedom was a hesitancy that wouldn't let me reach out and pull him _to me by the belt loops, to boss_ him _around, to be inside_ him _. If I act upon my desire for another man, that's a sin. If Gabe takes control of the situation, he becomes a thing that happens to me._  
  
"No," I answered in a whisper. His fingers slipped from my knuckles down to the head of his cock, collecting the precum beaded there. He pressed his moist fingertips to my bottom lip and I opened up, the salty tang of him strange and thrilling. I sucked his fingers clean, watched his gaze darken, felt him twitch against my palm. And I thought… _this is power_. I inched forward, licked across his slit with my flattened tongue, and heard him expel a puff of air through parted lips. His fingers tightened in my hair as I gently took the head of his cock in my mouth, unsure what to do about my teeth. I swirled my tongue around him and sucked, glancing up to watch his face for any signs as to what I should be doing.  
  
"Fuck, Eli," he breathed, eyes flickering closed for a moment before his gaze locked back onto mine. A breathless laugh ghosted past his lips, disbelief evident on his face as he held my gaze. "I didn't...I didn't think you'd actually..." He trailed off, head dropping back. I watched the bob of his adam's apple as he swallowed back moans, thrusting shallowly into my mouth. My neck and shoulders started to ache from the uncomfortable position we were in, but I couldn't tear myself away--as much a victim to his surrender as he was. I swallowed around him and his hips jerked involuntarily, pushing forcefully into the back of my throat. I gagged, tears in my eyes as he apologized breathlessly, his fingers tugging at my curls as he resumed his carefully controlled thrusts into my mouth. His breathing was labored--sharp gasps between groaned expletives and praises, and promises to make me come so hard I'd see stars.  
  
He pulled free from me, suddenly, one hand cupped before his erection as he stroked himself--once, twice, three times--before coming with a loud groan. His eyes were glassy and unfocussed as he slumped forward slightly, his clean hand pushing me back into the mattress, where my shoulders landed with a heavy thump. I watched as he tucked himself away with the graceless speed of the over-eager before shuffling back, kneeling between my knees. He spread my legs wider, instructing me to pull a knee up to my chest, muttering under his breath about how turnabout's fair play. He brought his hand down, spreading his release between my cheeks before bringing his hand up to his mouth, spitting into his palm, repeating the process--an utterly filthy sensation. My cock began to swell again with renewed interest, and I felt shame burning in my face from being so turned on by what had to be the textbook definition of a degrading act.  
  
And then the sting of intrusion--his fingers working inside me, stretching the tight passage, stroking deep, seeking out. My hands sprung back up to the headboard, gripping tightly as he leaned over me, teeth assaulting skin. I screwed my eyes shut and imagined the picture we must've made--Gabe, fully clothed and bent over me, the fingers of one hand deep inside me as the other firmly tugged my cock. And me, naked and sweating beneath him, fists clenched tightly around the slats in the headboard, head spinning, thighs trembling, every hair on my body raised, gasping, thrashing--a man drowning on dry land. His fingers brushed that spot inside me and I canted my hips with a humiliating little whine in the back of my throat, bracing my hands against the headboard to push myself down onto his digits. Each pass of his fingers became firmer, pressing tight against the bundle of nerves, stroking steadily.  
  
His mouth was suddenly on mine, his body pressed firmly against me, arm wedged between us as he continued to drive into me. He abandoned his grip on my cock, using that arm instead to brace himself against the mattress, taking some of his weight from me as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, biting gently. "Could you come just from this?" he murmured against the skin of my jaw, "With just my fingers inside you?"  
  
"I...I don't know," I gasped, my hips rocking down to meet the short, hard thrusts of his fingers--rolling of their own accord every time he stopped at the end of a thrust to rub firmly over my prostate. The wispy chiffon of his shirt tickled my over-sensitized skin, sticking slightly to my sweat.  
  
"We can find out when we have more time." He stated matter-of-factly, lips once again moving against mine, tongue curling in my mouth.  
  
"T-time?" I breathed into him.  
  
"Mmm, have to finish up here before the restaurant closes." He pulled back, fixing me with a smouldering gaze, a curling grin, before dropping his head to whisper against the shell of my ear. "Touch yourself, Eli," he breathed. There was a beat, a short pause where my aching fingers uncurled from round the headboard and I brought my arm down to grasp myself, and then he was buzzing in my ear again. "Imagine it's me, yeah? That I'm inside you and I'm tuggin' you off while I fuck you into the mattress. And you've got your legs wrapped round me, yeah? Or I've got my lips round you, and you can feel the head of your cock sliding into my throat. Love the way you taste, Eli--"  
  
Neck straining, head pressed back into the pillow, my back arched, hips rocking--I came, fist still stationary around the base of my cock. I gritted my teeth, dimly aware of the horrible grinding sound of it, like the prongs of a fork scraping a dinner plate. I was also vaguely aware of the fact that what started out as a groan, my teeth clamped firmly together at that point, turned into a harsh gasp when my mouth fell open. These aural threads wove themselves into a hole-gaped tapestry of single words and small phrases as he continued rubbing and pressing--milking me dry.  
  
I came back to myself slowly, my body boneless and limp against the mattress, watching through heavily lidded eyes as Gabe bent to lick the cooling release from my stomach with a sly smirk. The muscles beneath his tongue tensed and released, my skin shuddering. My throat felt raw and rasping from panting so harshly; my limbs felt somehow both lead-heavy and detached.  
  
"Guess that answers that question." He chuckled against my neck, wrapping my spent frame in his arms.  
  
"What question?" Blinking, dazed, nothing made sense but the feel of my body pressed to his.  
  
He laughed harder, pulling me closer. "Never mind, Eli." He pressed the words into the skin of my temple with his lips and I clung to him, letting him anchor me, letting his hands gently guide me back to reality. "Don't fall asleep."  
  
"M'not," I mumbled back, attempting to stretch while still in his arms. "If I wasn't hungry before..."  
  
"Want me to help you get cleaned up?" he asked cheekily, his hand snaking round my hip to knead my arse cheek.  
  
"Might as well." I smirked against the crook of his neck, languidly sucking at the skin. He pulled back to look at me appraisingly, something guarded in his eyes before a grin broke his face. He pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to my lips before untangling his limbs from mine and moving to crawl out of bed. I grasped his wrist just as his feet hit the floor, leaving him bent awkwardly over the bed above me. "Gabe?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What, uh...I just realized..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I don't even know your surname."  
  
He carefully extracted his wrist from my grip and linked our hands together, helping me pull myself up off the mattress. "Shepard," he stated simply, once I was steady on my feet.  
  
Shepard, I thought. Yes. You kind of are.  
  
  
********  
  
The water clambering steadily through the pipes is a discordant symphony whose every note scrapes at the inside of Eli's skull. He wishes there were any way to be clean and fed and tucked cozily into their rented bed without expending the energy he no longer has. Leaned up against a small, bare patch of wall next to the sink, unsteady on weak limbs, he watches Gabe's bent form as he fiddles with the knobs on either side of the bathtub faucet. There's an exposed strip of pale flesh peeking out between the hem of his blouse and the waistband of his jeans, and Eli brings his heavy hand out to stroke across it. Neither one of them has said a word since since he asked Gabe about his surname, and the silence is starting to lay thick and heavy, seeping into the spaces between and around them. Gabe startles, jumping a bit under Eli's clumsy touch before grinning back at him over his shoulder.  
  
He checks the temperature of the water a few more times before standing up, pulling his top off over his head in fluid motion. His arms are around Eli's waist, and he's up on his tiptoes to press his flat nose deep into the crook of his neck, their bare chests pressed flush. "You look like you could do with a smoke." His voice is soft, amused.  
  
"Mm." Eli hums, letting the wall take more of his weight as he and Gabe hold each other, steam starting to swirl in the air around them.  
  
"I'll get us one if you want," he breathes. Eli can feel his eyelashes fluttering against his neck with every blink.  
  
"No smoking. We passed the sign on the way to the room." A laugh alights on his skin, Gabe's lips parting in a grin. "What?"  
  
"That's cute."  
  
"What?" Eli asks again. He attempts to pull back to look at Gabe, his confusion growing.  
  
"All the shit we've done and you're worried about breaking the hotel's smoking policy."  
  
Eli gives him a half-hearted scowl, jabbing him in the ribs with the blunt tip of his index finger. "Tub's gonna overflow."  
  
Giving a parting kiss to his jaw, Gabe untangles himself from Eli and stoops to turn the water off. He holds his arms out, gesturing to the tub like a magician's assistant, and Eli laughs, shuffling forward and into the perfectly warm water. Eli watches as Gabe drops to his knees beside the tub, grabbing for the complementary bottle of shampoo.  
  
"You're not getting in with me?" he asks, trying not to sound too disappointed.  
  
"Not this time, mate," Gabe mumbles, attempting to tear at the plastic seal on the bottle with his teeth. He gives an almighty pull with his incisors, both hands wrapped tightly around the bottle, and squirts himself in the face with a projectile glob of shampoo. "GUH, aw, fuck!" he curses, wiping furiously at his face with the back of his hand before launching himself forward over the lip of the tub. He fills his mouth with tepid bath water and swishes it around his mouth, from one cheek to the other, rinsing suds from his mouth before spitting the foaming mess into the tub between Eli's knees.  
  
"Hey!" Eli shouts, backing away from the lathery mess. "I'm trying to get clean here."  
  
"S'just a little spit," Gabe laughs, hands coming out to stroke Eli's curls, "which, I might add, you've got up ya right now--among other things." Eli feels his cheeks colour and turns his face away as he shifts his arse uncomfortably against the bottom of the tub. "Hey," Gabe says softly, his fingers suddenly on Eli's jaw, attempting to turn his head back towards him. Eli relents, although his eyes aren't quite meeting Gabe's gaze as the smaller man leans over the tub to kiss him, his fingers sliding to Eli's nape. "I'm just takin' the mick, yeah? It was dead sexy what you did back there. _You're_ sexy."  
  
Eli can feel his cheeks burn hotter and keeps his mouth shut. Although knowing he hasn't made a complete fool out of himself is a consolation, it doesn't make him feel any less awkward. Gabe must know this, because the last thing he says to Eli is a simple "lean your head back so we can get your hair wet", before they lapse back into tentative silence, Eli allowing Gabe to wash his hair for him.  
  
********  
  
Gabe is crosslegged on the floor next to the bed, opening up one of the briefcases, and Eli wonders in an amused sort of way as he towels off his hair how Gabe can manage to sit like that in jeans that tight. He pulls a stack of cash from the briefcase and flops it up and down, up and down in Eli's general direction. "How much should I take out?"  
  
Eli shrugs and drops the towel on the nightstand next to Gabe. He starts to button up his shirt, watching Gabe in his periphery. Gabe considers the stack of notes for a moment before peeling a few off the top, reaching up to tuck them into Eli's pocket. "How much do you owe, um...Mick?"  
  
"Mike," Eli corrects, attempting to untangle his necklace from the buttons down the front of his henley. "I believe we're up to six thousand now."  
  
Gabe makes a pained noise, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. He peels note after note off a stack, counting each one out under his breath until there's a neat little stack on the carpet between them. "Better set this off to the side, then." He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful, before turning his face up towards Eli. "You might wanna call him to say you've got his money. Y'know. I'd prefer not to wake up to find you bludgeoned to death one morning."  
  
"Fair enough." Eli retrieves his coat from the floor at the foot of the bed, plucking his mobile from his pocket and turning it on. There’s a few missed calls from Jen, but no messages, and he reminds himself to ring her back once he's worked up the courage. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds Michael's number and hits the appropriate button. It rings only a couple of times before Michael picks up.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Uh, y-yes, hi. It's Eli. I, um..." _God, what's the correct protocol for this type of interaction?_ , he thinks, kicking himself for sounding so stupid and frightened. "I have your money. All of it."  
  
"You do?" Eli's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. Michael actually sounds...surprised. He can't help but to feel delighted with himself as Gabe crawls to sit next to him on the floor. Flat on his arse, his head comes up to Eli's mid-thigh as his nimble fingers seach Eli's pockets for the cigarette packet. "Great. You can come by tomorrow to drop it off."  
  
"Oh." Eli feels something within him shift slightly and start to sink. Gently, he slaps Gabe's searching hands away and sits down heavily on the foot of the bed. "I was kind of hoping I could maybe wire it to you. I'm not in the city at the moment because...um...something came up." He eyes Gabe, who grins back at him as he runs his thumb nail up and down the seam at the inside of Eli's knee.  
  
"No, that won't do," Michael states flatly. "You are to bring it to me in person."  
  
"Michael, listen. You don't understand--" But it's too late. The line goes dead against his ear. He sighs deeply and turns the phone off.  
  
"Well?" Gabe asks, looking up at him from between his knees.  
  
"He wants the money _delivered_ to him. Like it's a pizza or something." Eli frowns down at him, watching as Gabe's features shift to match his own.  
  
"Yeah. We won't be doin' that. That's fuckin' dodgy." Gabe stands and stretches, extending his hand for Eli to take. "Come on--let's eat."


	10. 09. The Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes back-story, character development, and your author's attempts at lulling you into a false sense of security before the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for they boys' dye jobs will be posted at the end of the chapter.

_"I think I want to be in love with you, but I don't know how."_  
Angela Carter, _The Magic Toyshop_  
  
Eli drifts into consciousness, the fact he's alone in the bed slowly dawning on him. He reaches out, palm smoothing flat over the expanse of bedsheet where Gabe was only hours before when they went to sleep. The sheets are cool to the touch. Turning his head against his pillow, he checks the clock. Three a.m. Eli sits up and knuckles the sleep out of his eyes, listening carefully to the still and silent night, his sight slowly adjusting to the darkness around him. He hears the soft sound of water splashing off to his left, and he turns, eyeing the strip of light spilling out through the bottom of the bathroom door. His head is pounding and his bladder full. Groaning, he clambers out of bed, shuffling into the bathroom.  
  
Gabe is in the tub, knees bent up and peeking out of the water, his head tilted back against the tiled wall. He gives Eli a weary nod. He looks fatigued, like the events of the past few weeks are finally catching up with him. Eli lets out a small, awkward cough.  
  
"I, uh...I need a piss." He mumbles, voice sleep-raw. He watches as Gabe drags a wet flannel up from the bottom of the tub and wrings it out.  
  
"Toilet's just there, mate," he gestures towards it with his foot, toes ridiculously in pointe. Eli shuffles on his feet for a moment, looking indecisive, and Gabe sighs heavily, draping the sodden flannel over his face, obscuring his eyes. "I've had my tongue up your arse," Eli hears him murmur incredulously through the damp cloth. He tries his hardest to ignore Gabe's presence and attempts not to make too much noise as he relieves himself. He waits until after he flushes and the pipes have stopped making noise before he speaks again.  
  
"Are," he coughs again, caught between the door and the tub, unsure. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Huh?" Gabe slides the flannel from his face, allowing it to rest against his chest, up near his collarbones. "Oh, yeah. M'fine, really." He flashes Eli a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's an obvious lie, but it's clear to Eli he doesn't want to share what's on his mind. He decides not to press his luck, and simply nods. There's a long moment of silence, Gabe just chewing on his ragged thumbnail, staring straight ahead at the tiled wall before he says suddenly, "I dunno. I guess I'm just worried is all. Y'know. 'Bout Michael. That was _well_ weird."  
  
Eli nods again, hyper-aware of his hands hanging limply at his sides. He feels as though he should be doing something, offering some kind of comfort or perhaps formulating a plan, but he's always been completely useless in these types of situations.  
  
"I, uh, I could really use a cigarette. Would you like to split one?" he says finally. Gabe nods, a genuine grin stretching his features. Eli retrieves the cigarette packet off the nightstand, and grabs a polystyrene cup from the tea/coffee making station in the corner of their room. Awkwardly, he folds himself into a sitting position next to the tub. He dips the cup into Gabe's bath water, collecting a bit in the bottom, and balances it on the edge of the tub.  
  
"Ashtray," he says softly, lighting a cigarette. Gabe smirks at him, shifting to sit completely upright in the tub.  
  
"I gathered, mate." Eli takes a pull, inhaling deeply, and holds the cigarette out to pass it off. Gabe holds up his hands, slick with water. "Hold it for me?" His lips brush the backs of Eli's fingers as they wrap around the proffered filter. His eyes fall closed at the rush of nicotine entering his system, and he tilts his head back to exhale.  
  
"What about you?" he asks softly, something almost apologetic in his eyes. "How you holdin' up?"  
  
Eli considers his answer for a long moment before he gives it. Admitting to being completely out of his depth would be stating the obvious. Still, he muses, it's not just committing felonies and being on the run that is adding to his feelings of ineptitude--it's Gabe himself. Or more accurately, the feelings Gabe instills in him, the things he's willing to do at his request. The way he couldn't--despite being completely exhausted--get to sleep last night without opening his eyes every few minutes just to stare at him. And how something inside him, deep in his chest, surged and crashed violently against his ribcage when Gabe realized he was being watched, smiled, and pulled him closer--Eli hopes these things are less obvious.  
  
"Honestly?" he asks. Gabe nods, grasping his wrist with wet fingers, pulling the cigarette towards his mouth. "The same, really. I can't imagine why he'd insist upon me dropping it off in person. Unless..." He trails off. Their eyes meet--their gaze heavy with a grim understanding. An acknowledgement of the vague yet real prospect of grievous bodily harm that could await Eli. He drops his gaze abruptly, realizes he's staring directly at Gabe's crotch and turns to look at the toilet instead, flustered. He can hear Gabe chuckling faintly as he takes another drag. Gabe mumbles something about him being cute.  
  
"Really wish you'd stop saying that," Eli grumbles, offering him the last drag, which he takes--damp lips pressing into the rough skin of Eli's fingers. Eli drops the smoldering cigarette butt in the cup where it fizzles out with a _psssst_ , winking out of existence like a dying star.  
  
"You wanna turn the heat up for me?" Gabe asks, shifting in the tub again. For a moment, Eli is confused by the request, wondering if perhaps it's not some double entendre, but Gabe doesn't seem to be laughing at him as he hefts himself up and walks towards the radiator. When he turns back around, Gabe's lingering in the doorjamb, a towel slung low around his hips, the damp ends of his hair trailing serpintine against his neck. There's something almost guilty about the smile he offers Eli as he walks towards the bed, dropping his towel before he climbs in under the covers. Eli shuffles awkwardly on his feet next to the radiator in his checkered pajama bottoms, which still hold their just-out-of-the-sweat-shop stiffness, and the henley he never took off after dinner.  
  
After a moment's pause, he decides to climb in after Gabe, still fully dressed. Gabe doesn't seem put out by his decision. They lay in the dark, listening to dirty bath water gurgling down the drain and through the unfamiliar plumbing until everything is silent once more. Gabe suddenly shifts his body towards Eli, skin warm and sodden and sticking slightly to the sheets. Eli remains on his back, eyes fixed on a ceiling too dark to actually see. For a long moment, there is no sound, no movement apart from Gabe's eyes, which Eli can feel boring into his face like a couple of drills. Finally, he turns onto his side and is immediately rewarded with the feel of Gabe fitting their bodies together like a couple of puzzle pieces, their chests pressed together. He feels Gabe slot a leg between his own, and tuck his face into his neck.  
  
It's different to their usual sleeping position--Gabe generally on his back with Eli pressed into his side, limbs wrapping around him like ivy overtaking a house--but Eli thinks this is just as good, perhaps better, in a way. He concentrates on keeping his breathing even and slow as Gabe's hair tickles his nose. He can feel Gabe's stomach pressing into him and retreating like the tide against the shore with each breath he takes.  
  
"Are you scared?" Gabe asks in a small voice, lips brushing skin. Eli considers the question for a long moment before answering.  
  
"I probably should be."  
  
"But you're not?"  
  
"I can't be."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're too distracting." Eli chuckles softly. Gabe shuffles, settling even closer against him. Eli can feel him grinning against his skin.  
  
"Amazing sex will do that."  
  
Yeah, Eli thinks. Amazing sex and something that feels scarily close to love.  
  
*****************  
 __  
I had only ever been infatuated with another man--boy really--when I was much younger. I met Billy when we were both eight, out on Highbury Pond. We were both fishing with our fathers. Or, more accurately, we were sitting up on the bank making trenches in the mud with sticks while our fathers fished. Billy had an easy grin and wild blue eyes. I guess I have a type. We talked about school--Billy went to the local public school, while my mother taught me at home, when she wasn't too out of her mind. He liked maths. I was more a fan of history. Any time his eyes met mine, I could feel my cheeks colour. It was a sensation I'd never experienced before, and I didn't quite know what it was, just that I should keep it to myself, bury it deep.  
  
He and I would run into each other from time to time in town, both of us running errands for our mothers. I would follow him around like a puppy. He didn't seem to mind, and none of the surrounding adults seemed to notice. As far as anyone--myself included--knew, it was a simple matter of hero worship. Billy was always so much more confident and determined than I was. It was easy to look up to him, in a way.  
  
I eventually talked my father into letting me go to a proper school--the one Billy attended. I don't quite know how I managed to pull that off, but there I was at age twelve, sat next to Billy in maths, my heart pounding in my ears.  
  
Billy turned thirteen two months before me. I waited outside his house, as usual, for him to emerge for our trundle off to school. Instead, I saw his face peering at me from his living room window, his hand up, waving me in. The inside of his house was too hot, and nearly silent. I found him sitting on his sofa, eating the biggest bowl of sugary cereal I'd ever seen. I put my stack of notebooks down and sat next to him as he explained he was wagging off school, in celebration of this landmark birthday and the fact that his parents were away, and asked if I'd join him. My heart leapt into my throat. I didn't want to get in trouble--I was such a little square--but the idea of spending a whole day with Billy, sans distractions, was too great to pass up.  
  
Of course, skipping school is better in theory than in practice. We had to stay indoors to keep any nosy adults from finding us out, and in a few short hours Scrabble and Atari both had lost any excitement they might've held. Suddenly, Billy got this mischievous gleam in his eye and grabbed my wrist, tugging me up to the attic. There, in a dusty box in the very back of the attic, he pulled out a ratty old copy of Penthouse. We pored over it, rapt, discussing inclinations towards things neither one of us had ever experienced first hand. Billy preferred the women with large, nearly life-threatening breasts, while I preferred them more petite. I blushed the entire way through, squirming to hide my erection. It was...confusing. The women were nice--attractive and naked, even if they were a bit...grotesque in their hollow pageantry of forced seduction--but Billy there, pressed up next to me, talking vaguely about what he'd do with these women if he ever had the chance, that _was the most arousing bit for me. I found my mind wandering, imagining myself in the place of...well, anyway._  
  
I suddenly felt his hand on my thigh and turned my gaze away from the lady in the centrefold, both spread wide open. Billy was up on his knees, kneeling next to me, his own fledgling erection poorly hidden behind the soft cotton of his pajama bottoms. "Can I?" he asked in a small voice, looking scared but determined. My heart was pounding so fast I thought it might stop at any moment, just give up on me and my hopeless anxiety. His hands shook as he unfastened my trousers. He stood to peel his pajamas and pants all the way down to his ankles before dropping back down to kneel before me. Ridiculous. He took me in hand, and I did the same. I came undone in a matter of seconds, his name a choked sob in my mouth. I sobered quickly, and sprung to my feet. I had to hold my trousers up as I ran down the stairs, left him there in the attic, still hard with his pants round his ankles. But I couldn't...I just...it scared me. I _scared me._  
  
Our friendship was never the same after that. I'm not really sure if it was because of what we'd done, or the fact that I just left everything...unfinished, as it were. We stopped sitting next to each other during lessons, stopped eating lunch together. Barely looked at each other. We drifted apart and never looked back. The last time I saw Billy, he was going by William and heading off to Uni with his girlfriend Abbie. And that was that.  
  
I explained all of this to Gabe in hushed tones over breakfast in the dining hall of the Stockton Arms, two days after my strange phone call to Michael. We sat across from each other, his left hand in my right, as we shoveled spoonfuls of complimentary cereal into our mouths. For all anyone knew, we were the picture of marital bliss, newlyweds on their honeymoon, chatting after a romantic night and not a couple of near-strangers trying to get caught up on what happened during the decades before we met.  
  
"Yeah? First time I'd sex with a man, he stuck it in without any prep. Everyone's first time is shit." He laughed, spoon glinting in the weak morning light as he lifted his Frosties to his mouth. I must've looked shocked, because his laughter became more raucous, dribbling milk down his chin. "What?" he asked finally, composing himself.  
  
"No, nothing. It's just...I never thought you'd, I mean, not that there's anything wrong with--but of course you know that, I just mean I didn't think you--" I stammered, my face on fire.  
  
"What? You didn't think I'd bottom?" He cocked his head to the side, suddenly serious. I shook my head, watching as he chased a frosted corn flake around the bowl with the curve of his spoon. "Eh. S'not my favourite. But s'nice, every once in a while. Why? D’you wanna go?"  
  
I blanched, nearly spilled my orange juice. "Oh, I...I don't know. I mean, I...don't know." Gabe chuckled, tightening his grasp on my hand.  
  
"S'alright, Eli. You ain't gotta do anything you don't want to. I were just asking."  
  
In the hush of the dining hall, I tried to imagine myself in Gabe's position, carefully preparing him, lowering my body onto his. The prospect to me was like that of climbing Everest. Surely rewarding and exhilarating, but also daunting and just a bit terrifying.   
  
***********  
  
Eli watches silently from the doorjamb as Gabe sections off hunks of hair. There seems to be no rhyme or reason which locks are separated out for dyeing, but Gabe, as ever, seems to know what he's doing. The fumes in the bathroom are so overwhelming, Eli has every window of their room thrown wide open. He's asked--begged, really, implored--Gabe several times to put on a shirt, their room too cold to be running about half naked, but Gabe insisted upon not ruining any of his tops with potential dye drips or bleach stains.  
  
The morning started off with their usual trip downstairs for the help-yourself breakfast, after which Gabe pulled Eli out into the cool January morning for a walk--hand in hand--to Boots. Eli grumbled the entire way there, wanting to be back in their room, under the warmth of the covers, tucked into Gabriel's side. But Gabe had insisted they needed to pick up some _essentials_. And besides, it'd be good for them to get out of their room. _Cabin fever an' all that._  
  
Which was how Eli found himself trailing behind Gabe through aisle after aisle, expected to awkwardly cradle their shopping in his arms like a bastard child. A box containing red hair dye, a box of black, and a slightly larger box proclaiming 'Hair Bleaching Kit' where the first items grabbed. Then an eyeliner pencil of black kohl and a tube of Chapstick. Gabe waffled over a selection of eyeshadows for as long as it takes some nations to draft peace treaties and finally chucked a selection of six muted browns and beiges at Eli to carry. And finally, the most embarrassing bit, the 'family planning' aisle. Gabe had grabbed one bottle of plain lube and pressed it into Eli's palm. He paused for a moment, considered, and snatched up another plain water-based, unscented, unflavoured bottle and one in alarmingly purple packaging boasting its ability to heat and tingle. Before Eli could object, Gabe was asking a very personal question at a very inappropriate volume.  
  
"Should we even bother with condoms?" he'd asked, eyeing the display before grinning wickedly at Eli. "Y'know, since we're married now."  
  
Eli stammered, his heart pounding. This was a conversation usually held between two people in a committed relationship, at home, in hushed voices. This was decidedly _not_ something Eli felt he should be mulling over with Gabe, in normal conversational tones, in the middle of Boots on a dull-grey Tuesday morning. Hell, it had taken him and Jen two years to have that very discussion, both red cheeked and floundering, before they decided it would be best to keep using them until they wanted to start a family. Or were too turned on to remember, whichever came first. Gabe arched a brow, waiting.  
  
"I...I don't know." Eli said finally. In a rushed whisper, he added, "We're not exactly using the ones we have now."  
  
Gabe had shrugged, and that was that.  
  
Now, Eli listens to the the rustle of Gabe's plastic gloves, the strange sounds the bleach makes as Gabe mixes it. The bleach kit came with a funny little brush Gabe uses to paint the caustic smelling goop onto his tresses. It's a long, arduous process, Eli's mind wandering in and out as Gabe takes his time painting stripe after stripe of bleach into his hair. His eyes rove over the countertop where Gabe has set up what looks like a laboratory; red dye, black dye, bleach. He notices for the first time that the box of black dye has not yet been opened.  
  
"Why'd you buy that if you're not going to use it?" Eli asks.  
  
"I will," Gabe murmurs distractedly, adding softly, "Eventually."  
  
Eli fidgets a bit more, shuffling from foot to foot in the doorway, a feeling welling up inside him, a sensation he's intimately acquainted with--anxiety, building like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him alive. He turns to snatch up his coat, hastily mumbling "I need a smoke," before storming out of the room and out into the cool afternoon. The sunlight seems almost too bright as it gleams off different surfaces--cars, benches, signs--as he trundles off towards the smoking shelter, which is blissfully deserted. He parks himself on a bench and attempts to remember what it's like to breathe unencumbered. In through his nose for a count of four, a pause, out through his mouth for four, attempting to force himself back into his body, to feel his panic, knowing it's only temporary, that he'll survive this. His heart is still fluttering like a coked-up butterfly, but he's begun to get a grip on his breathing, the buzzing in his skin starting to lessen.  
  
He unbuttons his coat, the cool air rushing in, shocking his system, giving him something else to focus on. After a few moments, it passes, and he pulls his cigarettes from his pocket and lights up. He had been surprised when this whole fiasco started, to find himself relatively calm throughout most of it--not a panic attack to be seen for miles. But they've started resurfacing with a vengeance since they pulled away from The Coach and Horses a few days ago. It's the waiting. The not knowing, that's what’s killing him. He knows somewhere, back in the city, Michael is angry. He knows, somewhere in the city, Jack is angry. Has he been back home yet? Is he there with Amelia, pretending as though nothing happened? When the inevitable news coverage of the robbery came on the TV, did Jack shake his head with a tut, proclaim to Amelia it was a shame, the world we're living in now? Was he plotting revenge? Being so far away from the brewing shitstorm was a blessing at first. Now, though, he feels like an inhabitant of a small island before the era of satellite weather maps, oblivious until the tsunami comes crashing down upon him.  
  
Sighing, Eli crushes out his cigarette and shuffles back into their room. Gabe is sitting on the foot of the bed, flicking through TV channels, his hair looking quite literally a bloody mess--the red dye bright and wet, slicking the tresses it covers down against his scalp. With his hair pushed back like this, his face is much more prominent, his features striking in both size and shape. Is he beautiful because he's weird, Eli thinks, or weird because he's so beautiful?  
  
"Alright?" He turns, smirking up at Eli.  
  
"Yeah, just, uh..." Eli searches for a word and comes up empty, his palms up to illustrate this fact.  
  
"Well never mind all that. I was thinking, yeah?" He clicks the TV off and throws the remote control off to the side with a flick of the wrist.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You like gambling, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
"So, I was thinking, yeah, we could make ourselves a little wager."  
  
"What kind of wager?"  
  
"I was thinking, right, that if I suck you off while I'm waiting for the dye to do its thing--and you can keep your hands outta my hair--then I'll do anything, _anything_ you want me to, right? But! If you touch my hair, I get to dye yours black."  
  
Eli laughs, unraveling what's left of that knotted ball of anxiety in his belly. "You're on."  
  
********  
  
Eight minutes later, his hands stained bright red, Eli allows Gabriel to steer him into the bathroom and drape a towel around his shoulders.  
  
"Your barnet is _mine_ , Grimm." He cackles, tearing into the box containing the dye.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and get it done so we can do this the other way round. Then you'll see it's not as easy as all that." Eli sulks, his bright red fingers tugging the towel closed around his neck.  
  
********  
  
He wakes to the feel of lips pressing into the flesh of his neck, teeth nipping gently. He groans, hands moving out, grasping Gabe by the hips, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. There's a tightness in his groin, his mind finally catching up to his body, and he relents, pulling Gabe closer.  
  
"Were you dreaming of me?" Gabe whispers into the darkness, stirring the hair behind Eli's ear.  
  
"Don't remember," Eli breathes back, tugging ineffectually at Gabe's pajamas.  
  
"Wrong answer," Gabe chuckles breathlessly. He wrenches Eli's pajamas and pants down, and then his own, lips pressed tight to Eli's. Eli opens his mouth as Gabe pushes him back, flat against the mattress, and settles on top of him, between his legs. There's something urgent in the way Gabe is kissing him, rocking against him, like something impossibly horrible might happen if Gabe can't have him right this second. It steals the breath from Eli's lungs, makes the blood not currently occupying the lower half of his body roar in his ears.  
  
He attempts to bring his knees up on either side of Gabe's hips, but his pajamas and pants are caught beneath Gabe. He's only half-aware of the little whine fluttering in the back of his throat, trying again before Gabe pulls back, peeling the offending clothing down to Eli's ankles before crushing their bodies together once more.  
  
"Fuck, Eli," Gabe gasps, arm reaching out blindly to grab the lube off the nightstand, "Need you."  
  
"I'm here," Eli mumbles back stupidly, hands grasping Gabe anywhere he can reach him, _'take me'_ on his tongue. The sound of a bottle being uncapped, the squelch of gel--Gabe's slick hand coating them both generously before bringing their hips together, grinding. Gabe brings their mouths back together clumsily, teeth clacking almost painfully, swapping breath. His name is repeated over and over-- _Eli, Eli, Eli, fuck_ \--like some obscene prayer as he bucks up against Gabe, their cocks not quite in alignment, so he's rutting against the coarse nest of hair surrounding Gabe's erection. His hands find Gabriel's arse and holds tight, blunt nails digging in. He's in a delirium, woke up in a dead sprint, chasing the edge, with Gabe's pleasure-husked voice filling his mouth-- _Christ, Eli, yes, god, fuck, need you, need you so bad, Eli, want_ \--almost as if the breath that carries Gabe's words are all that's keeping him alive, spilling down his throat into his lungs.  
  
He comes a second after Gabe, their bodies tense against each other, hips jerking. Gabe sags to the side, slipping off of him, their legs tangled. Eli falls back asleep so fast, in the morning, he'll be unsure if the whole thing even happened, or if it was just a dream. He'll try to remember to answer 'of course’ the next time Gabe asks 'were you dreaming of me?'.  
  
******  
 __  
Twice I had noticed the receptionist staring at me from her station in the lobby, and the two elderly ladies in the corner of the dining room darted their eyes at me a handful of times. I was so unnerved by this, I actually got up to check my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary--same small brown eyes under a mop of unruly curls, peeking out above one very slope-y nose. Two eyes, one nose, one mouth, all in the normal arrangement. Then why, if I had not spontaneously transformed into a living Picasso, was everyone staring at me?  
  
I got my answer as I walked back through the lobby/foyer, the receptionist catching my attention with a small wave of her hand. "Forgive me if this is out of line," she started, looking just a shade uncomfortable, "But is everything alright?"  
  
"What?" I thought perhaps she meant with the food, and was confused by how badly she thought I might've mucked up spreading butter on my toast or pouring milk into my cereal.  
  
"With your husband. It's just...I noticed you weren't dining together this morning, like you have done since you got here."  
  
Oh. Right. That. I had awoken to an empty room to find a note--Back in ten! xx Gabe _\--stuck to the bathroom mirror. That was thirty minutes before the receptionist started prodding my romantic life like some strange creature she found washed up on the beach. I tried my best not to let my cluelessness show, giving her what I hoped was a mega-watt smile à la Gabe._  
  
"Oh, that? Nah, he's just out shopping." I attempted to gauge the effectiveness of my lie by the look on her face. She didn't seem to be buying it. Thinking quickly, I added, "It's a surprise, you see. For me. Today's my birthday." This seemed to satisfy her, her face splitting in a wide grin.  
  
"Well, happy birthday!" I groaned inwardly at her enthusiasm, swearing to myself if she started singing to me, I'd storm up to our room, grab the gun and end my misery. Happy birthday to me, indeed. I thanked her, and that seemed to let me off the hook.  
  
Until one of the Nans in the corner decided to wheel her way over to my table. "Excuse me, dear."  
  
"Yes?" I replied, trying not to sound too weary.  
  
"Whatever happened, don't worry too much about it. Why, my Robert--Lord rest his soul until I get there!--and I had a row on our wedding night. I stormed right out and--oh, you don't want to hear all this. The important thing is," she leaned across her walking frame to pat my hand gently, her skin like cool parchment, "He'll be back."  
  
As I watched her slowly retreating back, I thought I must actually--finally--be losing my mind. Or maybe I died in the night, and this was Hell; strangers revolving endlessly around me, giving me relationship advice, and Gabe nowhere near to anchor me. I checked my watch. Forty minutes. Where the hell could he have been? My mind slowly started turning against me, telling me something had happened. That Gabe had been arrested. Or--worse, somehow--Gabe had just simply gotten bored and left me. I started racking my mind for clues to his departure I might've missed and came up empty, until I remembered that...event _in the wee hours of the other morning. It had felt more like a fever dream than anything. Or perhaps an Incubus attack. Had that possibly been a goodbye of sorts? Or was it--_  
  
"Alright?" I was so relieved to hear Gabe's bright voice behind me, I spun to pull him in for a kiss, which seemed to amuse him. He slid into the chair across from me, grabbing a slice of toast off my plate, nicking my knife to slather on heaps of jam. "You're awful happy to see me," he smirked.  
  
"I thought you’d gone," I confessed before I could stop myself. His grin widened.  
  
"Nah, mate. Went and did some shopping, didn't I?" The toast crunched loudly as his teeth broke off a large bite. He reached across the table to grasp my right hand.  
  
"Yeah, about that..." I quickly and quietly filled him in on what had transpired in his absence. The mirthful light behind his eyes brightened with every added detail--my confusion upon waking, eating breakfast alone, the receptionist, my 'birthday', Granny Sproggins--until he was outright laughing at me.  
  
"Poor Eli. You've had a shocker, havin' to talk to strangers all day, haven't ya?" I jerked my hand from his grasp and laid it in my lap. He scowled at me, although his eyes still held their usual playfulness. "Oi, don't go pouting now."  
  
"M'not pouting." I honestly wasn't. I might've been sulking, but I definitely was not pouting. "What did you buy?" I added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"I'll show you when we get up to the room," he grinned at me through a mouthful of toast.  
  
"Oh dear God," I groaned, lowering my voice, brow furrowed, "It's not some...apparatus _, is it?"_  
  
He appeared confused for a moment before the realization of what I was implying dawned on him, and he laughed. "Nah, mate. It ain't. Although," he leaned in across the table, leveling his gaze at me, his expression wicked, "If it were, trust me when I say you'd be beggin' for me to use it by the time I was done with ya."  
  
I gaped at him, my face on fire. He leaned back in his chair, continuing to munch his toast down, looking utterly satisfied.   
  
*************  
  
"Phones?" Eli asks incredulously, so taken aback by Gabe's purchases he hasn't even the forethought to try to hide his confusion. He had anticipated a great many things upon learning Gabe spent the day shopping, his mind conjuring up all sorts of shiny baubles, brightly patterned fabrics, innumerable pieces of studded leather jewelry, and the aforementioned _apparatus_ , but never did it occur to him to suspect something as mundane and left field as the pair of nearly antiquated mobile phones and prepaid minute cards that lay on their bed.  
  
"Yes, Eli. Very good. Now what's the thing they're lying on called?" Gabe coos mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Trust me--they'll come in handy, these. They ain't traceable like the ones what we already have, yeah?"  
  
"What's that got to do with anything?" Eli asks, feeling hopelessly lost.  
  
Gabe uncrosses his arms, his hand shooting out to grasp Eli's shoulder through the thick knit of his cardigan. There's a steely seriousness in his eyes, his stance and expression that of a man who won't be easily moved. His brow is furrowed slightly, his usually pleasing mouth downturned at the corners.  
  
"Listen, Eli. If this thing goes tits up..." he stops himself short, and it appears to Eli as though he’s formulating a way to rephrase his intent, can practically see him typing the words in the air between them with the flickering of his eyes. "Just...trust me, yeah? Only call Michael from this phone. And if you and I gotta communicate in any way but face-to-face, we do it on these phones, yeah? Just...trust me." He's imploring with everything he's got--his words, his tone of voice, his eyes, even the grip on Eli's shoulder seems somehow begging for compliance. Eli can see this plainly, even if he doesn't quite grasp why.  
  
"S-sure," he stammers, momentarily taken aback by Gabe's desperation, fleeting as it might be. His desperation disappears even further when he holds both palms up--empty, yet ready to receive whatever--and says resolutely, "I promise."  
  
"Good," Gabe breathes, standing on tiptoe to kiss Eli sweetly. "Good," he repeats, more steadily and with more assurance than before. He turns to make his way to the bathroom before turning once more, footfalls heavy in their haste as he rushes back to Eli, fixing him with an unwavering stare. "One more thing, yeah? And this is the most important bit. If anything happens to me--" he holds his hand up when Eli opens his mouth to object, silencing him. "If anything happens to me, take the SIM card out of the phone and get rid of it, yeah? Don't care how. Take it to a public toilet and flush it. Toss it in a skip. Chuck it in the nearest body of water. Just get rid of it."  
  
Eli wants to ask why, though he knows questioning Gabe when he gets like this is a fruitless endeavour. He never told Eli how he'd managed to get his hands on the blueprints to Bank Royale, nor how he knew about the construction going on there. Hell, he didn't even give up why he needed to accumulate and then proceed to break down so many cardboard boxes, way back when this whole thing was still in the planning stages. Eli only figured it out when he saw the signs-- _Broken down. Doctor on Call. Delivery; Back in 5 min_ \--in the car's footwell the morning of the robbery. He had to admit, even with Gabe’s sunny disposition and Eli's own pessimistic outlook, Gabe was somehow better at foreseeing all the potential bad outcomes of any given situation. He was the mastermind. Eli was merely a willing puppet. He supposes it wouldn't serve him too badly to have his strings pulled yet another time.  
  
"Okay," he says finally, with a resolute nod of his head. "I promise."  
  
Gabe grins widely up at him, leaning in once more for a kiss--this time a shade longer, a touch more heated--before bounding back towards the bathroom. "You won't be sorry, Eli!" he calls back over his shoulder before the door clicks shut behind him.  
  
Eli somehow doubts this.

 


	11. 10. The Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plot twist.

_"I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have_  
always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow."  
\--Joanne Harris  
  
It has been a day of indulgence, the two of them having woken up at noon, rolling out of bed only to drive the short distance to The Mitre--The Stockton Arms' sister restaurant--where Gabe convinced both Eli and their waitress that it would be a splendid idea to have chocolate cake for breakfast. After that was a trip to a small off-license where they purchased a bottle of Jack, which they sipped straight from the neck on their rented bed, Eli feeling a little bloated and queasy from his rich 'breakfast'. The most they seem to have accomplished this particular morning was programming each other's numbers into their new phones.  
  
They have not been overindulgent, though. They are both only just on the right side of tipsy, naked and flushed against the sheets. Eli is in his customary position--laid out on his back, knees slightly bent and spread accommodatingly--while Gabe kneels between his legs, head bent to lap greedily yet teasingly at the sensitive flesh of Eli's thighs. He seems to think this is a splendid time to attempt to carry on a conversation as though they are not in the middle of a heated round of foreplay, and has spent as much time--twenty agonizing minutes, by Eli's approximation--quizzing Eli on trivial matters as he has spent running his tongue along everywhere but where Eli truly desires it. Although to Eli's great credit, or perhaps his inordinate amount of foolish pride, he has yet to break and start begging for the release he feels his richly deserves at this point.  
  
"If we was really on our honeymoon," Gabe's words buzz against his saliva slicked skin, raising gooseflesh, "where would you have wanted to go?"  
  
Eli considers the question as best he can, his head swimming and dick almost painfully hard. "I don't know. Italy I suppose. Maybe."  
  
"Italy? Why Italy?" Gabe asks, before sucking hard at the inside of Eli's thigh. Eli's toes curl against the mattress, but he swallows back the plea threatening to fly from his mouth.  
  
"The architecture, the culture, the food," he answers truthfully.  
  
"The architecture?" Gabe parrots back, disbelief evident in his voice. "You can get that here, mate."  
  
"Yeah, but...it's different there. From the pictures I've seen," he amends quickly, knowing full well Gabe would ask if he's already been, and who with. He hasn't been, especially not with anyone of any note or importance, it's just so damned hard to concentrate with Gabe's mouth so mournfully far from his straining erection, while his choppy and ridiculous hair is close enough to tickle his balls.  
  
"Different how?"  
  
"Just..." Eli trails off, attempting to gather his thoughts. After fielding Gabe's question when this whole excursion started about what his favorite food is, and why, he came to the conclusion that the more he talked, and the greater detail he gave, the more responsive Gabe would become, rewarding him by moving farther up his legs. In fact, the questioning had actually started somewhere around the vicinity of Eli's ankles. The subject then had been pet hates, the questions answered with gruff haste and rewarded with nothing more than Gabe's tongue laving up and down the length of Eli's Achilles tendon.  
  
"Here," Eli tries again, grasping the thread of thought that had started dropping off when Gabe started marking a lovebite on the inside of Eli's opposite thigh, "Here the buildings, though beautiful, seem to be, I don't know...in competition, somehow, with nature. Or almost...encroaching upon it. But there, the little--Ooh!--the little villas and such, even the more...the more grandiose structures, they...they seem to be rising up out of the earth. As though they belong. Almost as though--Aah!--almost as though placed there by the hand of God himself."  
  
"You said 'maybe', though," Gabe observes, moving slightly higher up Eli's leg, where he no doubt finds an inexplicable smattering of freckles against the milky skin. "There somewhere else?"  
  
"New Orleans, perhaps," Eli chokes out, Gabe's tongue tracing the delicate skin where thigh meets groin. He's so close Eli can practically taste it. Perhaps a few words more, and he'll be permitted some relief. "The birthplace of jazz. There's something..." He swallows back the desire lying thick in his throat, gripping the headboard as Gabe tugs gently at his pubic hair with his crooked incisors. "There's something raw about the place, and yet sultry, at the same time. Dirty yet urbane. Slightly seedy, yet sophisticated. I--Oh, God, Gabriel, yes!" he hisses as Gabe takes him between his lips, rewarding him finally for all his trouble. He's been waiting so long--ever since Gabe started teasing him underneath their table at The Mitre--it'll only take a few moments longer, he can feel it already, building up inside him, that coiling in his guts ready to snap at any moment, and that moment is soon, so soon, and once it happens, oh that only opens up more opportunities. Perhaps he'll get to taste Gabriel again, take him in his mouth, or perhaps Gabe will choose to be inside him again--it has been too long, their first time also their last--and he will be boneless against the mattress, his own hunger sated, so as better to feel Gabe inside him, stretching and pushing and filling, and oh just a moment more and--  
  
Eli's mobile--his old one, the original--bleats loudly, startling him. The sound jars him enough to raise his hips, forcing the head of his cock into the back of Gabe's throat and suddenly the world is crumbling around him, and all he can do is writhe helplessly, emptying himself into Gabriel's still sucking mouth with a strangled cry of both pleasure and surprise caught in his throat.  
  
By the time the haze in his head has cleared, the phone has stopped ringing and Gabe is grinning at him, tugging at his arm in an effort to pull him upright. With considerable effort--he doesn't much want to move--Eli sits up, propping his shoulders and back up against the headboard as Gabe stradles him, erection bobbing almost comically between his legs as he situates himself and reaches to the nightstand to grab Eli's phone. He flips it open with a cheeky glance at Eli, and checks the missed call. There's a look on his face, a mixture of too many differing emotions to account for, and Eli almost wants to laugh at him. Until the expression turns wicked, Gabe's tongue just touching the tip of his canine as he grins at Eli.  
  
"Was your dad," he says in a low voice, pressing the phone into Eli's sweaty palm. "Ring 'im back, yeah?"  
  
Eli watches as Gabe moves his hand down to grasp himself, fist moving up and down his shaft slowly. He's got his eyes locked onto Eli's, and that stupidly assured look on his face, like he knows Eli can't deny him this. Nor could he deny himself. It's perverse and it's funny and it's just the kind of thing that would give his father a heart attack, were he to know what was occurring on his son's lap while speaking to him. Eli feels almost giddy as he rings him back, even going so far as to bring a hand out to cup Gabe's heavy sac in his hand, rippling his fingers in time to the distant rings on the other end of the phone. Gabe throws his head back, that self-congratulatory grin planted firmly on his face as he rolls his hips into Eli's hand, thrusts up into his own.  
  
"Eli?" The voice on the other end sounds slightly panicked, and not at all the one he expects to hear when ringing his parents’ home phone.  
  
"Jen?!" Eli jumps yet again, bucking Gabe upwards with the movement. Gabe, for his part, stills his hand and cocks his head inquisitively, his sweaty brow furrowed in slight confusion. "What're you doing at my parents’ house?"  
  
"What am I doing?" Jen repeats, voice going up a couple octaves, "What are _you_ doing?! I've rang several times, left just as many messages. Do you have any idea how worried I was? You wouldn't pick up, so I went to the flat, and you weren't there. So I thought perhaps you were still here, at your parent's, but you weren't here, either! I thought--no. Doesn't matter now what I thought. Where the hell are you?"  
  
"Where the hell am I?" Eli echoes, feeling something dangerously close to anger rising within him. "What does it matter where I am? Furthermore, what difference does it make to you anymore? Hmm? You're the one who broke up with me, remember? I don't think I owe you any explanation to where I've been or what I've been doing. Or with whom," he throws in for good measure, as Gabe tries his best to conceal his grin. His hand is moving again, almost imperceptibly, and Eli's not even sure as to whether Gabe's aware he's doing it, though he knows the adrenaline from the argument he's currently having is making him a bit brave, almost brave enough to push Gabe back against the mattress and take him in his mouth. Almost.  
  
"With...whom," Jen repeats softly. She sounds as though the wind has been knocked from her, as if she's been dealt a physical blow rather than an emotional one. "Oh. I see."  
  
Eli though, is not a cruel man, not intentionally anyway, and immediately feels remorse hit him like a freight train. "Oh, Jen," he sighs, "I'm sorry. That...that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have...you were only concerned, and I...I appreciate that. Really, I do. I'm fine, if you still care to know. And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. Still care to know, that is," he finishes weakly.  
  
"Well...I do," she says, almost inaudibly. There's a hesitancy in her voice Eli hasn't heard for a long time, perhaps since they'd first begun dating, even. Gabe's fist has stilled completely, and Eli can tell he's listening even more intently than before. "I, um," Jen falters, attempting to carry on, "Where are you?"  
  
Eli sighs. "Why does that matter, Jen?"  
  
"It matters because I have something very important to discuss with you, Eli!" She's at the end of her rope, he can tell. Totally and completely exasperated. He feels a pang of guilt for being the one to make her feel this way. He taps Gabe softly on the hip, jerking his head to the side. Gabe catches his meaning easily enough and slides off, so Eli can swing his legs off the side of the bed, feet resting on the floor as he sits hunched over.  
  
He sighs heavily into the phone again, stalling. It's more than just not wanting to interrupt this latest... _interlude_ with Gabe that's causing him hesitancy. It's not wanting to burst this safe little bubble of fantasy they've so carefully--though perhaps unwittingly--built for themselves since fleeing the city. He wants to be a million miles away from the trouble, the responsibilities, and, most importantly, the man he had been before this all happened.  
  
"Scale of one to ten?" he asks weakly.  
  
"I'm pregnant, Eli." Jen spits out.  
  
For a moment, there is no sound. Eli swears he can feel the earth's axial spin screech suddenly to a halt. This had been the furthest thing from his mind. This is the last thing he expected to be faced with. Then again, so was Gabe, but that hadn't stopped him from happening to Eli, either. No matter how much he wants to, he can't hide behind ignorance or lack of foresight.  
  
"Oh," is all he can think to say.  
  
"Yeah, 'oh'." Jen says back, her tone defiant and exhausted all at once. He wonders briefly how long she's been staggering under the weight of this knowledge all alone, and kicks himself mentally for being such a thoughtless prick. "Are...are you really with someone else?"  
  
"Well, I uh..." Eli considers lying to her for a moment. He glances over his shoulder at Gabe, only to find him staring intently back, sitting with his legs tucked underneath him looking slightly worried, his erection waning. "Yeah," he says finally.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I didn't mean for this to happen, Jen."  
  
She gives a weary little laugh. "You never do, Eli."  
  
Eli furrows his brow, opens his mouth to ask what she means by that, when he's cut off by her quiet, hollow voice. "I'll still be at Jan's when you get back. _If_ you get back. So we can discuss this. You know." And the line goes dead.  
  
***********  
 __  
It took Gabe nearly fifteen minutes to get me to stop pacing, remember to breathe, and tell him what was going on. I kept my eyes downcast, staring at the carpeting between our feet as I told him, expecting him to say something pertinent to the situation, only to be surprised when he told me to get dressed. I watched him for a moment, confused as he began to put his clothes back on.  
  
"Get dressed," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me as he pulled his drainpipes on with a bit of difficulty, "And go down to the garden for a smoke. I'll meet you out there in a minute, yeah?"  
  
The panic had so thoroughly overtaken me I was numb by that point, happy to have him tell me what I should be doing, even if it didn't seem like anything particularly productive. I did as I was told, cold air slamming into me as I pulled open the door. I was greeted by dusk, the sky indigo, the clouds grey. I took a seat on a bench beneath a yew tree, across from a fountain gurgling peacefully, and lit a cigarette.  
  
It's funny, the way things work out. Or don't work out, as in my case. There are a lot of variables that can change the way you view a situation. If I hadn't have gotten so belligerently drunk that I'd gotten myself fired, I wouldn't have gone to Michael's. If I hadn't have gone to Michael's, Jen probably wouldn't have broken it off with me. If I wasn't so broken down from stress, I would have had the strength to be selfish and decline the invitation to my parents' house. And I wouldn't have met Gabe. Jen probably would have found some cutesy way to tell me she was with child, and I would have been elated. In reality, though, I was torn. It couldn't be easy, bringing a child into the world with your ex. Although it was no guarantee she'd keep it--a thought which made my stomach clench unexpectedly.  
  
I heard the crunch of footfalls through snow and turned my head to see Gabe walking towards me. He stopped straight in front of me, blocking my view of the fountain and the spectacular winter sunset beyond it, and took the cigarette from between my fingers. I saw him shiver as he brought it up to his lips, and rolled my eyes, reaching out to zip up his jacket. I watched him expell a plume of smoke into the still air, his eyes closed. He stood pigeon-toed between my knees, cast in the shadow of hesitance.  
  
"I've packed," he said softly, passing the cigarette to me.  
  
"Oh." I felt my stomach churn and then sink. This was it. The final straw. Everything up to this point he could handle. After this, though, I guessed he decided I just simply came with too much baggage. He said something I didn't quite catch, looking at me expectantly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, where does Jan live?  
  
"Brighton," I replied, a bit confused, but mostly just devastated.  
  
"Right. Help me get the shit in the car. If we leave now, we might make it there before she goes to bed." He took the spent fag end from between my fingers and crushed it in the gravel beneath his boot.  
  
"What?" I asked, my heart suddenly racing double time.  
  
"You gotta go talk this over with her. She's pissed off, and staying here with me ain't gonna help that, mate." He tugged my arm, attempting to force me out of inertia.  
  
"And you're...you're coming with me?" I asked stupidly, scrambling to my feet. He gave me a sarcastic look.  
  
"I'm the one what's got the car, mate," he stated flatly, before his features softened and he pulled me closer. "I ain't leavin' you now, Eli," he said quietly, tugging me towards the car.  
  
  
***********  
  
The drive to Brighton has been one spent in tenuous silence, the first hour spent by Eli in mute shock, locked away in his own private panic. Without really realizing it, he'd reached over the centre console, through the space that separated the two of them, to grasp Gabe's hand. Gabe had tossed him a curious glance before returning his eyes to the road and giving his fingers a comforting squeeze. At some point, Gabe had to relenquish his grasp on Eli's hand in order for cigarettes to be lit. The radio was turned on two hours into the drive, dialed down low to break the monotonous drone of tyres on bitumen and the wheeze of the car's old heating vents. A second after the volume knob had been adjusted, Eli found Gabe's hand sliding into his own once more, holding on tight and only retreating when both hands were necessary for steering. The silence slowly shifted from shocked, to uncomfortable, to willful defiance in the face of the situation they've found themselves in. Five hours worth of words held captive by two slightly sweaty palms--gagged by ten knuckles woven tight together.  
  
"Eli?" Gabe says finally, his voice a little rusty from disuse as he turns onto Old Steine. "I'm gonna need directions, mate."  
  
Eli clears his throat and lists off moves as needed--left turn, right turn, right turn, left--guiding Gabe's hands on the steering wheel with his voice until they find themselves parked outside Jan's nauseatingly large New York style loft on Vine Street. Gabe kills the engine and drums his fingers against the leather of the wheel before his hands find Eli's again. Eli's gaze drifts to the clock, reading forty minutes past midnight. He wonders vaguely if he should just ask Gabe to turn the car around, wait til the morning to do this, before he notices Gabe watching him closely with an unreadable expression.  
  
"You wanna wait til the morning, don'tcha?" he asks, his face still unreadable, nearly a mask in the dim glow of the streetlamps.  
  
"What do you think?" Eli asks, wanting Gabe's honest assessment of the situation. Gabe seems to give it good consideration before puffing his cheeks full of air, eyes wide and downcast. He shrugs slightly.  
  
"I'd go in. Just let her know you ain't abandoned her when she needs ya, y'know?"  
  
"Right." Eli nods. He takes a deep, steadying breath and yet finds himself still unable to move, bogged down in inertia. He feels Gabe's curled fingers twitch slightly against his palm.  
  
"You gonna get back together with her?" he asks almost too casually, eyeing the various rags, bric-a-brac and fast food wrappers littering the dash.  
  
"No. I'm--" _I'm with you now, you twit_. The thought is so forceful in its insistence to be spoken he actually has to physically swallow it down before continuing. "I'm not. I mean, I'll be there for her no matter what she decides, but...no."  
  
Gabe squeezes Eli's hand tightly in his before turning fully towards him in his seat, knees thrown over the centre console, ankles dangling between Eli's spread knees. He drags Eli's left hand into his lap and pulls the ring from his finger with jerky motions--his finger slightly swollen around its band. Eli watches as Gabe places the ring on the dash where it glents weakly in the dull light. He kicks his feet up next to it, blocking it from view as he reclines as much as possible in his seat, and turns Eli's hand over in his. Gabe brushes his fingers over his palm, back and forth over the roughened skin before bringing it up to his mouth, pressing kisses into the places his callouses don't touch.  
  
"G'on, now," he says softly, relinquishing his hold, "before you lose your nerve."  
  
Eli nods, hand hovering above the door pull for a moment as he steals a fleeting glance at Gabe's face before throwing the door open to the cold night air and steps out of the car. His legs wobble dangerously as he takes the few steps up to the private front door, partly from nerves, partly the layer of icy slush littering the pavements. He knocks only just loud enough to be heard, though he's sure the pounding of his heart will be enough to wake everyone on the street. A lamp comes on in a room on the second storey, throwing a pale rectangle of light over Eli and the pavement behind him. He only waits a few minutes before he's met with Jan's tired face glaring at him through a crack in the door.  
  
"What?" she snaps, blinking sleep from her eyes.  
  
"Is Jen here?" _Stupid, stupid_ , Eli thinks. "I mean, I know she's here. Can I speak to her for a moment?"  
  
Jan stares at him wordlessly for a long moment before turning back into the house silently, leaving the door cracked but not inviting him in after her, her slippered feet sounding a muted shuffle across the oak floor of her foyer. It's a place he's always hated, Jan's flat--a three bedroom, three bath, open-planned testament to her own self importance, stuffed full of expensive furniture, paintings, real silver and crystal, perfect investment banker husband and sickeningly adorable baby. Even before the arrival of Gabriel in his life, every holiday spent here with Jen had made him briefly question his faith.  
  
There's once again movement in the foyer before the door is pulled back, Jen regarding him with guarded curiosity. She's wearing her thick pink dressing gown--tightly belted--under her heavy peacoat, and is holding herself like she thinks she can separate herself from the cold using her own body as a shield. She hovers on the threshold, obviously not wanting to invite him in--clinging desperately to her anger and annoyance--but also not wanting to freeze herself more than strictly necessary. He can't blame her, really.  
  
"I, um..." It's a false start. He coughs softly and tries again, shoving his fists into his pockets. "I know it's late, but, uhm...I just wanted you to know...I'm here. For you. If you need me, or you want to talk, or, uhm...anything really. I just...I didn't want you to think I was deserting you. Because I'm not. I wouldn't." He coughs again, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. Jen's face softens a bit before her brows knit together and she frowns slightly.  
  
"Are you really with someone else?" she asks weakly.  
  
Eli nods, subconsciously shifting to more fully block her view of Gabe in the car.  
  
"Already?"  
  
He nods again, more guiltily than before. "I...yeah." He wants to say he's sorry, but he's not sure if he is. He wants to say he didn't mean to fall into another relationship so soon, but that just sounds like a hollow excuse. He wants to tell her that even if he no longer wants to be with her, he still loves and supports her, but he doesn't know how. There's a long moment of silence, stretching out between the two of them like an ocean, or perhaps a large river--both of them inhabitants of a small town on oposite sides attempting to communicate via shouting across, knowing if they tried to meet in the middle, the current would drag them under. The sound of a throat being cleared--undoubtedly Jan--sounds from behind Jen, which seems to snap her back into action.  
  
"Come round tomorrow, and we can talk things over. Just make sure it's at a decent time." She attempts to smirk at him, but it action doesn't quite reach her eyes. Eli nods and ducks his head, backing up slightly before he turns to retreat.  
  
"How'd it go?" Gabe asks as Eli clambers back into the car. Gabe turns over the engine and reaches for the radio's volume dial.  
  
"Fine, I guess." Eli shrugs and picks his ring up off the dash, sliding back on his finger. There's a moment's pause of suspended motion where Gabe's hand hangs in the air before the radio dials, and Eli can see Gabe staring at him out of the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a grin on his lips before his fingers close around the volume knob, turning the radio up so it's just audible. Gabe drops his hand, his palm a warm, comforting weight on Eli's thigh.  
  
"C'mon," he says tenderly, pulling away from the kerb and onto the street proper, "Let's get outta here."  
  
**************  
  
For the second time in a week, Eli finds himself laying between Gabe's legs. This time is different, though. This time, they're lying in Eli's bed, Gabe's head square in the middle of Eli's pillow, his breathing slow and relaxed--the steady rise and fall of his bare chest under Eli's cheek and the pressure of his fingertips stroking across his scalp lulling Eli into a blissfully blank-minded tranquility.  
  
He has to concentrate hard on staying awake--a lit cigarette held loosely between middle and forefinger. Gabe keeps reaching with his free hand to grasp Eli's wrist, pull the cigarette up to his lips for a drag. The stereo--cheap, old and dusty--in the corner is leaking a steady stream of music into the room, something Eli's never heard before but likes. Carefully, Gabe takes the cigarette butt from between Eli's fingers and crushes it out in the ashtray sitting on the mattress next to them. With an awkward stretch, he places it on the nightstand and wraps his arm around Eli's shoulder.  
  
"Don't fall to sleep on me," he mumbles into the crown of Eli's head. He rubs up and down Eli's bare calf with his socked foot, toes climbing higher to tickle at the skin behind his knee, sending a pleasant little shiver through him.  
  
"Won't." Eli mumbles back, rubbing his lightly stubbled cheek against Gabe's sternum.  
  
"Will so, if you don't get off'a me." His tone is accusatory, though he makes no move to unhook his ankle from round Eli's leg.  
  
"You didn't get to finish, earlier," Eli blurts out, referring to their little interlude in their rented room, before Jen's call. He feels Gabe's chuckle as well as he hears it.  
  
"So?" he says flippantly, dragging his blunt fingernails lightly up and down Eli's back, making his breath hitch slightly.  
  
"Well, I mean...I'm just...I'm just saying." Eli stammers, mentally kicking himself. It's been a long day of high-emotion, his exhaustion making his tongue at bit looser than he'd normally like.  
  
"You offerin'?" Eli can hear the grin in Gabe's voice before he even tilts his head up to see.  
  
"Would--would you like...?"  
  
"I ain't one to turn down free orgasms, mate." His grin widens as he hooks his ankles into Eli, just under his arse. "You wanna?" Eli is sure his face is going to burn a hole through Gabe's chest, his voice failing him. He nods. "Then get up here and kiss me, mate."  
  
And he does, really noticing for the first time just how unshaven Gabe's jaw is--the scrape of stubble on stubble rasping like a cabasa. Gabe murmurs soft encouragements into his mouth, and if it wasn't going on half two in the morning, Eli might've held a firmer grip on his inhibitions--his mouth blazing a warm, wet trail across Gabe's jaw and down his neck. Gabe's hands are everywhere at once, it seems to Eli, down his back and up his ribs, in his hair and on his arse, gripping hard at his upper arms as Gabe grinds his hips up against him, teasing them both through the thin cotton of their pants, pushing Eli's pelvis down into him with his strong leg muscles.  
  
Eli allows his head to loll forward, tucked into Gabe's shoulder. Gabe turns his head, nose pressed into Eli's neck, sucking at the slightly salty skin before biting down, sucking harder. Eli groans and Gabe pulls off his neck with a pant, quickly transforming into a breathless laugh as he presses his head back into the pillow.  
  
"Was'so funny?" Eli slurs into his flesh, eyes closed tight, hips still rolling even as Gabe continues to laugh.  
  
"We're gonna...come in our pants...like a couple of--mmm--horny teenagers." Eli's never heard anyone laugh _and_ moan simultaneously, but he quickly decides it's one of his favorite sounds. He chuckles back, at a loss of what to say, opting instead to continue rocking his hips into Gabe's. He can't help the gasp that escapes him when their cocks line up almost perfectly, rolling his hips over and over. Gabe's calves flex tight against Eli's arse, his nails digging into his shoulders.  
  
"Fuck!" Gabriel gasps out, hips canting to meet Eli's. "I mean it, Eli. You make me come like this and you're doing the washing. _Tonight_. Because I--oh _fuck_ , Eli, don't stop. Don't you dare fucking stop or I'll kill you, I swear to god, I'll murder you with my bare hands, Eli. Eli, Eli," he repeats, brow furrowed as they rock together. A rush of heat hits Eli's face, and he promises himself he can feel embarrassed about this all he wants tomorrow, but right now he just needs so badly to come he's losing sight of himself, of his embarrassment, of his self-consciousness. He brings his hand down, jerking first his boxers then Gabe's little blue pants down just far enough to free their erections. Their harsh breaths mix with the sound of drums on the track playing in the background as Eli takes them both in his large fist, both of them leaking steadily enough to make the slide of skin on skin almost overly slick.  
  
He fists their cocks hard and fast, beyond ready to come, his balls aching. Gabe is gone somewhere, his mouth slack as he stares unfixedly at some point just over Eli's shoulder, his eyes glassy. He comes just after a few more pulls, Eli slowing down and easing up on the pressure as Gabe's body goes rigid, a strangled groan breaking free of his throat, splashing his release over the tensed muscles of his stomach. He lays boneless against the mattress, looking just as Eli had imagined him so many weeks ago as they pored over the blueprints to the bank--satiated and gasping against the pale blue and white striped sheets Jen bought, a film of sweat making his exposed skin glow, his chest heaving with each breath, his hair a wreck.  
  
Eli pushes roughly into his fist with a partially stifled grunt, spilling onto Gabe's already sullied stomach, the arm he's bracing himself on shaking as he rides it out, Gabe's cock still in hand, twitching against him. He brings his arm back down to the mattress finally, pulling large gulps of air deep into his lungs as Gabe's fingers glance over his skin. He can feel Gabe's knuckles brush against his stomach, wondering dimly in the back of his mind just what he's doing, the answer coming soon enough when Gabe's slick fingers press against his bottom lip and he opens up without a thought, sucking their mingled release off Gabe's digits before rolling off to the side, head barely on the edge of the pillow.  
  
The last thing he feels before dropping off into exhausted sleep is Gabe curling around him as he pulls the duvet up over them both.


	12. 11. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of stuff happens and someone potentially fucks up.

_"The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."_  
\--Charles Du Bos

__  
Jen squinted at me over the brim of her tea cup as we sat at her sister's dining table. "Did you dye your hair?"

_Not two hours before, I woke up wrapped in Gabe's arms, his chest pressed tight to my back as he kissed me awake, his lips against my nape. He coaxed me into the shower but didn't join me, and when I got out I found a new outfit laid out for me on my bed. I found Gabe in the kitchen a few minutes later, sitting at the card table that served as my dining table. He was smoking one of my cigarettes, using an old cup plate as an ashtray, two mugs of coffee steaming away on the dented metal tabletop. He gave me a shy smirk._

_"I was gonna make toast, but your bread was moulded," he explained, crushing out his cigarette on the plate._

_"Coffee's fine," I shrugged, sitting down. My right hand reached out, a habitual motion my mind had begun to associate with eating breakfast. If I was eating during the morning, I was to be holding Gabe's hand--habit dictated it. I was surprised, however, when he reached out toward me and took the mug from my left hand, pulling my fingers toward him. I watched as he took the ring from my finger, holding it in front of my face._

_"Bad idea, mate." He dropped it on the table between us and I watched it rotate a few times before finally settling. "Don't want her to think you've off and got married since you broke up. Talk about a blow to the ego." My hand felt somehow heavier when he gave it back to me. Before we left, he made sure to zip his jacket up, smirking as he did so. One the drive to Brighton, he blasted Bowie and sang the lyrics under his breath. Before I got out of the car, he pulled me towards him by the back of my neck and brought his lips to mine--the kiss somehow both hard and sweet. When he pulled back, he wished me luck._

_All of that seemed miles away from sitting stiffly in Jan's dining room, trying not to breathe too hard on anything. Thinking about this place as a previous part of my life seemed strange to me--her house like a place I saw once in a dream, familiar yet unreal. Jen was eyeing my hair hard, looking confused but trying to hide it._

_"I lost a bet," I answered honestly. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it quickly and just nodded instead. "You hate it."_

_"No." She shook her head and took a small sip of her tea. "I just… I never thought you'd dye your hair."_

_"I lost a bet." I repeated, smoothing my fingertips over the space my faux-wedding ring occupied less than two hours before. She eyed me harder, brow furrowed and mouth pulled down slightly at the corners. "What?"_

_"You're really serious about her, aren't you?" she asked, dropping her gaze into the depths of her tea cup._

_"Who?"_

_"This new woman," she sighed, eyes still averted. I let out a huff of air._

_"I'm not here to talk about that, Jen. I'm here to talk about us--what we're going to do. Or not do. It's up to you, really." I'd begun pressing my fingernails into my palms, attempting to take my mind off the fit of nicotine cravings I'd found myself in. She looked hesitant for a moment before sitting her tea down and folding her hands in her lap._

_"But you are. I can tell," she said in a small voice._

_"Damn it, Jennifer," I sighed, shifting agitatedly in my seat. "Look. I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Because it's true, I didn't. This is not to spite you, it's not to hurt you. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with really awkward timing. I just...this is going to be difficult--more difficult than raising a child usually is, if, indeed, we are going to...that is, if you chose to keep it. Like I said, it's your choice, and I'll support you no matter what._ That's _what I thought I was here to discuss today, our might-be child, not my new might-be relationship." She looked up at the last bit, more confused than ever. She caught me on the back foot and I faltered, shrugging. "I might be more serious about this relationship than...well, I mean, we've not really discussed what it is we're doing. It's a very confusing time for me," I finished lamely._

 _She gave a little disbelieving laugh. "A confusing time for_ you _? How do you think I feel? Not to say when I found out I'm pregnant that I thought you and I would get back together, or that it would just magically fix everything, but...oh hell, Eli." She bit her lip hard, something she does when attempting not to cry._

_I stood with a heavy sigh and gently pulled her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I'm sorry." I held her for a while, even after her tiny sniffles ceased, allowing her some time to compose herself a bit more--she’d always had more pride than I ever did._

_"I've not decided yet," she said in a small voice, pulling away from me and turning her face to wipe her tears away._

_"Okay, yeah, that's fine," I rambled, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. "I'm here if you want to talk it over. Or, y'know...not here if you want to be left alone. Which ever you prefer. Just, uhm...just let me know."_

_She held up her hands, both a thanks and dismissal. I turned awkwardly, making my way through the kitchen with its gleaming stainless steel appliances and expensive crockery towards the foyer and out into the dreary afternoon. I texted Gabe to tell him I was finished talking to Jen and lit myself a cigarette. I had half the thing smoked before Gabe came rolling up the street, pulling up to the kerb in one fluid motion._

_"How'd it go?" he asked as I climbed into the cab, folding my legs awkwardly into the tight space._

_"Eh."_

_"She make a decision yet?" His tone was too light, too casual._

_"Would it matter?" I asked, perhaps too harshly as I rubbed at my temples._

_"What?"_

_"Would it matter to you if she had?"_

_"What's it got t'do with me?" he asked, the pitch of his voice shrill._

_"Nothing--which is my point exactly."_

_"Woah. Excuse me. I were only askin', mate. Y'know, trying to be supportive, like. Fuck." He took the right turn perhaps harder than he meant to, corrected it with ease._

_There was a moment's heavy pause. I sighed, pitched my cigarette out the window. "Sorry. I just..."_

_"What?" His tone was softer now, hesitant but curious. He reached out blindly, in search of my hand._

_"If she...if she says she's gonna keep it..."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"And I'm to be a father..."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Are you going to...I mean...never mind. Forget I said anything." My fingers twitched nervously against his palm, but I didn't pull away. We rode the rest of the way home in silence. He cast a glance at me--the first since I'd climbed into the car--when he turned off the engine, but said nothing. He didn't break the silence until we were standing in the kitchen. I felt his fingers curl round the waistband of my jeans, and I was suddenly being pulled forward into his embrace, the hair at the crown of his head tickling the underneath of my chin._

_"I ain't goin' nowhere, mate. Yeah? Said I liked ya and I meant it. You havin' a kid or not's got nothing to do with that."_

_I let out a long breath through my nose, allowing my arms to wrap around his skinny waist, pull him just a fraction closer. I coughed weakly. "Right."_

_He chuckled softly, planted a kiss square in the middle of my chest. "Alright. Now--what's for lunch?"_  
  
*******

"You want kids?" Gabe asks, seemingly out of the blue, as he pulls his fingers steadily through Eli's curls.

Eli flicks his eyes from the crack on his ceiling he'd been contemplating up to Gabe's face for a moment. The movement, as far as Eli can tell, has gone undetected by Gabe, his eyes fixed on the TV ahead of him. Eli thinks he should sit up, his body too long to be laid out like this, with his legs dangling over the arm of the sofa and his head in Gabe's lap--not to mention the hot mug of tea he's holding, resting on his stomach feels like it could possibly burn a hole through him at any moment--but the solid feel of Gabriel's thighs beneath him is keeping him anchored to the moment like gravity keeps his feet on the ground.

"Honestly?" He can see Gabe nodding just inside his periphery, "Yeah. Always have, really."

"So you're hoping she keeps it, yeah?" Gabe wedges his hand between Eli's body and the back of the couch, in search of the remote control, throwing in a quick, "And yes--honestly."

"Suppose I am."

Gabe hums noncommittally and begins flipping through the channels. "What d'you say we got out for dinner tomorrow night, yeah?" he asks, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, okay."

"Lemme just check the weather. I ain't goin' out if I gotta freeze my tits off to do it."

Eli chuckles lightly, turning his face to nuzzle against Gabe's stomach. He can feel the muscles beneath his cheek tensing and releasing with Gabe's laughter.

"What?" he asks, pulling back to stare up at Gabe, who’s smirking at the TV, lit strangely by the flickering screen.

"You're so easy."

"I am not!" Eli argues, crooking his neck to bury his nose in Gabe's shirt once more. He watches Gabe's grin turn slightly more predatory as he chucks the remote carelessly onto the coffee table and looks down at him, his gaze heavy. His hand trails down the side of Eli's skull, fingertips brushing the tendons of his neck before slipping into the neck of his jumper, stretching the fabric. His fingers make contact with Eli's nipple, teasing it to hardness, pinching mercilessly, causing Eli's hips to jerk just a bit in reflex, hissing air in through clinched teeth. The newscast forgotten, but giving off the only main light source in the living room--the story of a 12 year old stabbed in a Tesco's Express providing a horrible soundtrack.

"Are so," Gabe says softly, removing his hand from Eli's jumper, trailing lower. He stops just shy of Eli's belt buckle.

"M'not." Eli repeats, words muffled against the fabric of Gabe's shirt. He's half-hard, his cock having been filling and draining lazily for the past fifteen minutes--his body reacting to the warm, safe feeling of having his head resting in Gabe's lap, of being touched so tenderly as they sat in comfortable silence while dusk fell outside the window. Eli knows when Gabe inevitably slides his hand lower, he'll not have a leg to stand on. Until then, though, he feels he can at least cling to whatever pretense remains.

"Sit up," Gabe mumbles softly, pushing at Eli's shoulder. Confused, Eli does as he's bid, arranging his body awkwardly against the corner of the sofa. Gabe leans in slowly, kissing Eli at a leisurely pace, one hand planted firmly on the back of the couch, just behind Eli’s shoulder, while the other grips the sofa arm so he's surrounding him without actually touching him. Eli's hands come up to grasp at him, but he's deterred when Gabe murmurs a soft "Nuh uh" into his mouth.

Eli lets his hands drop ineffectually to the cushioning as Gabe continues to hover over him, tongue parting his lips. He doesn't pull back until the sound of a whine catches in the back of Eli's throat, when he breaks off, sitting back against the opposite arm of the sofa.

"G'on," he breathes, nodding at Eli.

"Go on, what?"

"Touch yourself," Gabe grins, his gaze heavy.

"I, uhm, I don't kn--" Eli starts, before Gabe cuts him off.

"I know you like being watched, Eli." Gabe levels his eyes at him, his smirk widening, "Remember that night in the car? It was only a few minutes and you were already so close. It was hot, yeah? Remember how hard I was for you, just watching you?"

"But I want..." Eli trails off softly, fingers tightening into fists. Gabe extends his leg, pressing his toe into the outside of Eli's knee.

"What? Tell me what you want." His tone is soft, tentative and coaxing--this moment a thing of great fragility, Eli naturally too hesitant and Gabe innately too aggressive, and if either of them drops the ball their shared transfixion will shatter, leaving both their senses of pride bruised. Eli's ego, much like his will power, has always been soap-bubble resilient, and must be handled with great care, and in just the right way. "It's alright, yeah? G'on. You can tell me," Gabe breathes.

"Want you to touch me," Eli says just above a whisper, keeping his eyes downcast. His gaze meets the now very noticeable bulge in his trousers, and he feels his face heat up.

"'Course I'll touch ya, Eli," Gabe assures, failing to keep a softly affectionate smile off his lips, "Can't exactly keep my hands off ya, can I?"

Eli can't help but to smirk as his fists unclench, his hands moving slowly towards the button of his jeans. Time seems to lag as he unfastens his jeans, resting his hands awkwardly against his thighs as he takes a steadying breath. He can feel Gabe's eyes on him like caressing palms, his cock twitching against the soft cotton of his boxers. Eli pulls himself free with a slightly trembling hand, fisting himself lightly. His cock gives another jump at the small, appreciative noise the escapes Gabe's parted lips, and he realizes Gabe was right--he enjoys this, possibly too much.

A movement from the corner of his eye makes him turn his head and he catches Gabe sliding off the couch and onto the floor, trying with great difficulty to fit his body in the small space between the sofa and the coffee table as he crawls forward and clumsily fits himself between Eli's knees. Eli spreads his legs wider, affording Gabe more room to settle in the hopes that he'll do something, anything, touch him, maybe. Instead, Gabe places his palms on Eli's open thighs and strokes lightly, watching him with darkened eyes.

Eli releases a burst of air through his nose, letting his head fall back against the sofa and his eyes close as he continues to stroke himself, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, squeezing tight at the base. He sets a slow, steady pace as Gabe continues to trace random patterns across his denim-clad thighs. Eli licks his suddenly parched lips, breathing a plea as Gabe rises up on his knees and grasps the waistband of Eli's jeans.

"Lift your arse, yeah?" he breathes, yanking his jeans and pants down to his ankles, clumsy in his enthusiasm. Before Eli can really register what's happened, Gabe's tugging at his arm, urging him to first stand and face the couch, and then to kneel on the cushions. He does as he's bid, gripping the back of the couch to steady himself as Gabe grabs his hips, pulling him back. Eli feels the slight stubble of Gabe's jaw glance the inside of his thigh, forcing a shiver from his body as Gabe's mouth continues traveling its slow course up Eli's leg, to his arse--soft palms stroking and parting his cheeks, a warm, wet pressure suddenly against his entrance. A pant escapes his lips, and he pushes desperately back against Gabe's tongue, a hand still gripping and squeezing his cock.

"Wh-what happened to watching me?" he gasps, wriggling back against Gabe's probing tongue.

Gabe urges Eli to hold still and ignores his question altogether--just keeps circling his pointed tongue round and round Eli's entrance before delving in, curling. Eli gasps again, pushes his sweaty forehead against the wall behind the couch with a huff, his toes curling as he fights the urge to push his hips back again. Eli feels the blunt tips of fingers replace Gabe's tongue, the digits stroking lightly over his slick entrance.

"You want me?" Gabe's voice is low and teasing.

"Yes," Eli chokes out, pressing his forehead more fully into the wall, "Please."

The playful slap that lands on his backside is accompanied by the sound of Gabe rising to his feet and informing Eli he's just going to nip off to the bedroom for the lube, and not to move. He listens to Gabe's footfalls retreating farther into the flat, waiting until they fade almost entirely before lowering his arse to the sofa, head hanging as he wonders how, exactly, he wound up in this situation--waiting patiently for a man he hardly knows to fuck him on a boring Tuesday night.

A car alarm blares from outside the closed window, snapping him back to reality. He turns his face towards the darkened pane of glass and catches the TV screen in his periphery before doing a double take. It comes at him in waves, his mind unable to process everything at once. A reporter-- _the smug looking one, Christ, what was his name again?_ \--sitting behind his little desk with a serious expression as a graphic showing the exterior of Bank Royale floated near his head.

"Investigators say there are still no suspects in the case, but have revealed today an automotive tack cloth discovered at the scene has been found to contain human DNA. They're still unsure as to whether this potential evidence is connected to the robbery that took place nearly two and a half weeks ago."

Eli feels his heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest as he practically falls backwards off the sofa. He trips as he stands, stumbles as he attempts to make his way to the bedroom, holding his jeans and boxers up with one hand as he jogs down the short hall. The door is ajar and Eli hastily pushes at it with his free hand, discovers Gabe standing next to the bed, attempting to rip the plastic safety seal off a new bottle of lubricant with his teeth. He shoots Eli a confused look at first, which quickly turns into a smug grin, revealed as he moves the bottle of lube away from his mouth.

"Couldn't wait, eh?"

Eli shakes his head frantically, trying to remember how to form sentences. He watches Gabe's face change from smug to confused, making the smooth transition into concern as Eli attempts to collect himself enough to force the words out.

"TV," he says finally.

"What about it, mate?"

"The news broadcast. The police, they've found DNA at the bank. Where you parked the car. Automotive cloth." Eli manages.

"Oh," Gabe's eyes flit around the room as he processes the information. He, of course, is nowhere near as panicked as Eli. "Alright."

"Alright? _Alright!?_ How is it alright?" Eli reaches out to grip Gabe's shoulders, perhaps shake a little sense into him. Unfortunately, he has to let go of his jeans to do this, and they fall to his ankles, revealing how the pants he hastily pulled up have tangled round his upper thighs. It's obvious to him Gabe's fighting a laugh, and it makes him want to scream.

"Well it ain't your DNA, so don't worry about it," Gabe chides. Eli simply gapes at him and after a moment, Gabe relents with a sigh, abandoning the lube and popping the button on his skinnies, peeling them off with little grace or enthusiasm. He frees Eli from his jumper before ridding himself of his own shirt, urges Eli to step out of his jeans while he pulls his pants up for him, the elastic waistband snapping against skin.

"I'll go and get the whiskey, yeah?" Gabe sighs, attempting to move past him. Eli grasps him by the wrist, ducking his head for a kiss. He realizes he's probably squeezing Gabe's arm too hard and slackens his grip, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Gabe's.

"Is...I mean...is it really alright?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," Gabe nods, reaching out to stroke his fingers gently over Eli's cheek, "Yeah. It'll be fine. I promise."

Eli nods back, frees Gabe from his grasp and watches him disappear down the hallway.

***************  
 __  
I woke up to the dim illumination of street lights filtered through the broken blinds covering my bedroom window. I was thirsty and achy and suddenly restless, stretching my spine out long until it popped and cracked. I lay there for a moment, trying to collect enough energy to get up and pour myself a glass of water when I heard a choked sob off to my right. I turned over and was met with the sight of Gabe's face close to my own, his cheeks wet with tears.

_I reached out, dragging my thumb across a glistening trail before it had time to reach his sideburn. "Gabe?"_

_When he didn't answer me, I shook him gently, my hand on his shoulder. He woke with a start, his eyes wide in shock, looking confused for a moment before he focussed in on me, face crumpling like a sheet of paper. "Oh," he sighed softly._

_"You alright?" I whispered, my hand moving from his shoulder to his hip. He rolled immediately into my arms, pressing his wet face to my chest._

_"Yeah, yeah. M'fine, really. Promise." I was concerned, of course, but the panic didn't really set in until he uttered that word-- _promise_. It wasn't that long ago he promised me the DNA evidence found outside the bank wouldn't be a problem. He was clearly lying about being okay--his tears seeping into my t-shirt to highlight this fact perfectly--could he have been lying about..._

_No. I couldn't think of it. I had to believe he had things more or less under control. I had to believe he had the answers to questions I couldn't even ask, had the confidence I couldn't begin to fake. He was the rock the waves crashed upon--not impervious to erosion, but so steady and unmoveable it'd take a great deal of force to destroy him._

_"Yeah," I breathed, pulling him in closer, wrapping him up tighter. "Yeah, of course you are."_

***************

The sound of Eli's phone vibrating on the nightstand is just audible over the music Gabe put on roughly fifteen minutes ago. Eli reaches off to the side, attempting to slap it quiet, making Gabe chuckle.

"Mmm, answer it, Eli," he groans, hips not missing a beat.

"L-little b-busy right now," Eli chokes out, looking down the length of his own body. Or, more accurately, _up_ the length of his own body--most of his lower half elevated by pillows stacked beneath his hips, a leg thrown over Gabe's shoulder as he continues to thrust into him tirelessly. Gabe rolls his hips at the end of each deep stroke, the head of his cock wedged firmly against that spot inside him--again and again and again. Eli tightens the leg he has wrapped round Gabe's waist, attempting to pull him closer, and watches as Gabe flicks his sweaty fringe from his eyes before mouthing the calf at his shoulder.

"G'on," Gabe breathes, slowing his pace and deepening his strokes, "Answer it, yeah?"

"I don't kn-OH!" Eli shoves his knuckles into his mouth, attempting to stifle a moan, "I don't th-think I could really c-carry on a-- _oh god_ \--normal conversation right now," he protests, even as his hand reaches for his mobile. It stops buzzing almost as soon as his fingers make contact with it, and Eli nearly sobs with relief. "See? They've already hung up," he pants.

Gabe shoots him a look as he continues to nuzzle into Eli's calf, panting breaths ghosting over saliva-slicked skin, picking up his rhythm once more. "It rings again, you're answering it."

Eli feels inclined to argue, but finds it difficult to concentrate on anything that's not the wonderful pressure of building release inside him. It's a steady climb approaching a rapid descent, and they're both close, so close--Gabe's fingertips digging into Eli's flesh where he's gripping him, while Eli fists the sheets, attempting to keep himself from flying off in every direction.

There's a _bleep! bleep!_ from the left--Eli's text alert--and even with his eyes screwed shut tight, he knows Gabe is looking at him expectantly. With a ragged sigh, he reaches over, stretching uncomfortably and knocking his glasses off the bedside table as Gabe instructs him to read the message aloud. Getting his eyes to focus on the tiny words is a task and a half with Gabe still thrusting relentlessly into him, causing him to gasp intermittently.

"It's Kat," he spits out, finally, flinging the phone down next to him on the mattress in order to grip the sheets again, "She wants me to-- _oh, Christ, Gabriel_ \--to guess where she is."

"That all?" Gabe pants, thrusts becoming more abandoned as his brows knit together. Eli watches Gabe's incisors capture his bottom lip, pulling roughly before releasing it, red and swollen. "M'close," he whines, pressing his face further into Eli's leg.

"I know," he gasps back, grinding his hips into each thrust. "Me too."

"Well, c'mon, then." Eli watches the muscles of Gabe's stomach tense and release, sees how blown and unfocused his pupils are as he reaches down to stroke Eli's steadily leaking cock. "And keep your hands away from your gob--I wanna hear you."

Three strokes and the edges of Eli's vision are starting to dim. Somehow, just under the sound of a loud groan that is filling his ears, Eli manages to catch a strange, fabric sound, and something like a rubberband being played with, and he stupidly wishes Gabe would shut his mouth long enough for him to figure out what made that noise. As his mind starts to return to him and his body continues to shake, he realizes two things. The first is that Gabe is not the one making all the racket--although Gabe is still being his usual audible self. The groan instead is coming from Eli, the sound dying in his suddenly parched throat. The second is the source of the noise he somehow managed to hear beneath their _coitus sonus_ \--the fitted sheet has been pulled loose from the mattress, the corner of it latched onto his shoulder with its elastic grip.

Eli tries to struggle out of the tangle, but is hit square in the chest by a weighty mass--Gabe collapsing on top of him.

"Do you mind? I'm trapped here!" he huffs, continuing to try to pull the sheet free from his sweaty shoulder. Gabe lifts his head, blinking dazedly at him for a moment before laughing, settling on his knees between Eli's legs.

"Sit up, sit up," Gabe instructs between chuckles, helping Eli pull the sheet off as he raises his body off the mattress, wincing as his arse shifts against the sheets. Gabe's mouth is on his in a matter of seconds, the kiss sloppy but affectionate.

"So was that your best, then?" Eli breathes into his mouth, hands resting on Gabe's thighs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles. Through heavily lidded eyes, he can just see Gabe shrugging.

"Top five? Top ten, easily," is the response, and it makes Eli pull back to laugh. "So what'er ya making for dinner tonight?"

Eli opens his mouth to reply when the sound of a frantic knock at his door interrupts him. He is suddenly a flurry of movement, vaulting out of the bed and searching frantically for his pyjama bottoms, which he pulls on without pants. "That'll be a noise complaint, then. Oh god, oh shit," he mumbles, panicked, as he partially wedges himself under the bed in search of his glasses.

"Relax, yeah?" Gabe laughs, swinging his legs off the bed, stretching.

"Relax? Relax!? My landlord's already had it up to the ears with me--I'm pretty sure he's looking for any excuse to throw me out and now we just gave him one, what with our..." Eli trails off, waving one hand euphemistically at the bed while his other hand shoves his glasses on hurriedly.

"Eli," Gabe groans, sounding as though he's about to launch into a rant. Eli, though, can already guess what he's going to say-- _You should really learn to just...chill out, yeah? Life's not as difficult as you make it out to be, mate._ \--and doesn't waste any time getting to his front door. It's a short sprint down his hall and through the front room, but added to the physical exhaustion of being fucked four ways to Sunday by a high-energy 20-something, he's panting heavily by the time he throws the door open.

He's greeted not by the craggy face of Mr Williams, but the soft, slightly concerned face of his sister. He gapes at her for a moment, trying to get his breath back as he pushes his sweaty curls off his forehead.

"Kat? What're you doing here?" He watches helplessly as she pushes her way past him and into the small foyer, eyeing his suspiciously.

"I was gonna surprise you, but you didn't answer your phone. Or my text! So I just...y'know, decided to come up anyway--I heard shouting." She cuts herself off, never one to wait for anything, even herself. "You alright?"

"What? Yeah. What? No, I'm fine." He knows he's being too twitchy, too sketchy to be believable. He uses the few seconds it takes to turn and shut the door to try and compose himself, clearing his throat when he turns to face her. "I'm fine, really. I, uhm...dropped something. On my foot. And it hurt. A lot. So I shouted. You know how that is."

"Yeah, Eli." She drops her handbag carelessly onto the floor, still giving him that suspicious look. "Everyone knows how that is."

"Yeah." He coughs awkwardly. As he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, he can feel a mix of lube and semen leaking from his bottom, cooling against his cheeks and he knows he's blushing. He attempts to hide his face and walk like a normal person as he leads Kat into the front room. "So, uhm, what are you doing here?"

"What're _you_ doing here?!" Kat asks excitedly, confusing him for a moment before he turns to see Gabe standing at the mouth of the hallway, clad in a pair of Eli's pyjama bottoms and ruffling his hair in that infuriatingly charming way of his. _My pyjamas,_ Eli thinks, shaking his head. _Could he make this any more obvious?_ Kat rushes forward, lunging herself at Gabe, and the feeling that wells up inside Eli as he watches his sister hug his... _Gabe_ is so forceful and ugly it makes him nauseous.

"Just, uh...spending a little time with Eli." At least, Eli thinks, Gabe has enough decency to blush a little.

"I gathered, mate." Kat does a horrible job mocking his voice, pokes him in his bare ribs. She looks back and forth between Eli and Gabe, both of them watching her expectantly. Finally, she grins and takes a seat in the armchair. "Oh, please, you two. I kinda figured, what with the way Gabe stopped visiting me and kept hanging around you." She shrugs nonchalantly, kicks her open-toed wedges up onto Eli's coffee table.

Eli walks on still-wobbling legs to the sofa, hesitates before sinking down onto the cushions, wincing and shifting as he attempts to find a comfortable position, his arse embarrassingly sore. He watches Gabe tread across the room with ease, seemingly perfectly comfortable in the middle of this crushingly awkward situation. Gabe lowers himself to sit closer to Eli than appropriate in polite company.

"What brings you round?" Gabe asks, flashing an effortless smile.

"Oh, yeah, right!" Kat laughs, shaking her head, her eyes shining with mirth, "You won't get out of it that easily. When did this all start, huh?" She reaches for the packet of cigarettes Eli left on the table, and quick as a whip Eli reaches out, gently smacking her hand away.

"You don't smoke."

"How would you know?" She levels her gaze at him as she pulls the old guilt card. He holds her gaze as long as he can before finally breaking eye contact, relenting.

"New Year’s," Eli answers. From his periphery, he sees Gabe turn his head to stare at him, bemused. "What?"

"New Year’s?"

"Yes," he hisses through clenched teeth. He's blushing again--can even feel his ears starting to burn with it--and he averts his eyes, replying in a small voice, "I mean...that's when we had our first kiss, so..."

"Eli, you old romantic." Kat giggles, sliding his cigarettes towards him across the coffee table.

"Shut up," he mumbles, lighting one up. "You're not...I mean, you seem to be taking this news pretty well."

"We weren't really that serious," Kat shrugs, exhales a cloud of smoke.

"What about the fact that I'm...dating a man?" Eli asks, eyes trained on the leg of the coffee table as his face again turns pink.

"Are you dating?" she asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Eli can feel his blush deepening. He had been careful, since this whole thing started, to keep from asking too many questions about what exactly was going on between him and Gabe. Even going so far as to attempt to censor his private thoughts, keeping any questions or desires about the future under lock and key. He had only said 'dating' a man because it seemed a more polite thing to say to your kid sister than 'fucking' a man. Still, though, the question has been asked, and all Eli can do is stare down at his lap and wait for Gabe to answer.

"We're...feeling things out,” he replies diplomatically.

"Yeah, I bet you are." Kat grins, shrieking when Gabe pulls the sock off his foot, balls it up, and lobs it at her.

"So, uhm, why _are_ you here?" Eli asks once Kat and Gabe have both settled.

"I nearly forgot," Kat giggles, leaning over the coffee table to crush her cigarette out in the ashtray, "I've moved out of Mum and Dad's! I'm only a short tube ride away now. Ain't it great?" She beams at him, looking very proud of herself. 

"You're joking." Eli gapes at her. 

"Really! I'm staying at a friend's--rent free until I can find a job. Ain't it great? Speaking of," she checks the lime green watch strapped to her wrist and rises to her feet, "I have an interview to get to." 

"An interview? _Now_?" 

"Eli," Kat tosses him an exasperated look, "It's only half noon." 

"Is it?" he feels his face drop slightly. 

Kat laughs, flashing that grin of hers that tells him he's really going to hate whatevers about to come out of her mouth. "At least tell me the two of you are taking breaks. Keep a pitcher of water next to the bed? S'very important to keep hydrated, y'know." 

"Throw your other sock at her, Gabe." Eli scowls, snatching his cigarette off the table. Kat laughs again, leans down to give him a peck on the forehead. She embraces Gabe warmly in parting, that same horrible feeling rising up inside Eli like a tidal wave at the sight of such a simple, affectionate, uncomplicated gesture. 

"I'll text you my new address, 'kay?" She calls out over her shoulder as she dissapears into the foyer. Eli's only response is to grumble under his breath. Gabe stays standing, staring down at Eli still sat on the sofa silently until the sound of the front door shutting reaches them. As soon as it clicks shut, Gabe punches him on the shoulder. 

"OW! What the hell was that for?" Eli grimaces up at him, rubbing his sore arm. 

"Could be a little nicer to your sister, y'know," he chides, stealing the cigarette off Eli. 

"You obviously don't have siblings."

"Wot's that got to do with it?"

"It's got everything to do with it." His tone is still sharp and he's still annoyed, but he has to turn his head to hide his smirk, secretly elated at having a new piece to the puzzle that is Gabe. _He hasn't got any siblings,_ Eli thinks, _That explains his constant need for attention, at least._ Admittedly, it's not much. But it's better than nothing.

 

****************  
 _  
"You play?"_

_"What?" I cracked my eyes open, peeking at his head laid on my chest._

_"The guitar.” He gestured to my old acoustic Fender Dreadnought, propped up in the corner of the bedroom. "D'you play? Or you just keep it around to help pull birds?" I could feel him smirking against my skin. I tried feebly to shrug him off me, relented when I heard him chuckle, allowed him to wrap himself more fully around me._

_We'd spent the majority of the day lounging about, not doing much of anything--pulled the blinds, watched a few movies, ordered a pizza. Barring the blow job Gabe performed on the sofa, it had been a relatively wholesome and innocent day for us._

_"I play," I mumbled, trying not to drop off despite the early hour, the sun only just starting to set outside the window._

_"How come you never play for me, hmm?" he asked, digging his fingertips in between my ribs--a ticklish spot he'd found only the day before. I swatted his hand away and rolled over onto my stomach, felt him follow shortly behind to press into my side, tracing patterns along my back._

_"S'been the furthest thing from my mind, to be honest. What with us running from the law, and my owing a lender, and your nymphomaniacal tendencies." I smirked against the pillow when I felt him pinch my side. "Am I wrong?"_

_"Shut up and light us a fag, yeah?" Gabe huffed, sitting up against the headboard. I mirrored his movements and lit a cigarette for us to share--our new nightly routine. As I watched his lips purse around the filter, the memory of him sucking me off while_ Journey to the Centre of the Earth _played forgotten on the TV hit me full force, and I debated the subtle nuances of asking another bloke if he'd fancy a blow job._

_And that's when my mobile rang._

_"Ugh, what now?" Gabe groaned dramatically, head flopping onto my shoulder. I chuckled and answered the phone, fully expecting it to be Jen or Kat._

_The rest is a bit of a blur for me._

_I remember Michael screaming "WHERE'S MY MONEY, ELIAS?" from the ear piece, and I remember him telling me I had exactly 24 hours to get it to him before he'd send someone after me. I've asked Gabe about this numerous times, and each time he's told me I only uttered a few less-than-manly squeaks in response to the threat--something I refuse to believe to this day._

_The next thing I knew, Gabe was rushing around packing suitcases and yelling at me to help him get everything to his car. "And the guitar," he shouted, hauling the briefcases full of money out to the car park. "I wanna hear you play it sometime before we're brutally murdered, yeah?"_

_Later, we'd discover I'd brought just the empty guitar case with me._


	13. 12. The Hanged Man

12\. The Hanged Man

"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?"  
\--Jeremiah 17:9

"I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them."  
\--Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

 

My heart did not stop pounding its frantic staccato until Gabe pulled into an underground car park. Even then, I had not settled--my nerves frayed and my breathing harsh. I felt Gabe give my arm a comforting squeeze before killing the engine and climbing out of the car. I took a few deep breaths before following him out into the dark, cool garage. Taking a look around, it struck me how out of place his beat up old Ford looked next to the many newer, sleeker models surrounding it--sports cars, foreign cars, cars that cost more than my entire year's salary.

Gabe popped the boot open and started pulling our suitcases of clothes out, passing a few over to me. His face was placid and unreadable as he set the cases of money at his feet and shut the boot. Cases in hand, I watched him make his way across the garage to the doors of a lift a few feet away.

"Where are we?" I finally asked.

"Hackney." I watched as he pressed a button with his elbow.

"More specific?" I hung back until the doors to the lift opened. Gabe shot me an annoyed look when I lagged behind.

"Shoreditch," he answered.

"Uhm...bit more specific?"

"S'my flat, innit?"

"Oh." I shuffled my feet awkwardly. Admittedly, I had wondered quite a few times about Gabe's place of residence, but the fact I never thought I'd get the chance to see it didn't strike me until that moment. When he told Kat he and I were just 'feeling our relationship out', it honestly felt like a confirmation that he was nowhere near as serious about me as I was him. Part of me figured that, once most of this business blew over, he'd want to part ways and I'd be left with nothing but memories of hotel rooms and waking up to find him sitting in my kitchen, smoking my cigarettes. So during quiet moments, I had taken to imagining what his home might look like--bright colours and velvet or leather furniture--something wholly impractical. I pictured cramped spaces; perhaps he lived over a storefront, a restaurant.

Stepping out of the lift, it was immediately apparent that almost nothing was as I imagined it. There were, indeed, bright colours and ridiculous fabrics as far as the eye could see, but they were dotting long white walls and pristine white wood paneled floors. From the door, it was a clear shot to the kitchen where stainless steel appliances gleamed when he flicked on the lights. It was spacious. It was new, modern. It was obviously expensive.

I saw him clock the openly shocked expression on my face, and he shrugged, dropping the cases of money into an armchair by the door. I stood, stunned, and watched him peel off his jacket, depositing it neatly on the coatrack. His boots came off next, and he slotted them away neatly onto a low shelf against the wall. "I don't do shoes in the house," he told me. "They fuck up the floors."

I didn't set the suitcases down so much as they just sort of fell from my grasp. I felt as though I were on autopilot as I, too, peeled off my coat and hung it on the rack, took my trainers off and placed them on that same shelf. I didn't know what to think, or say, or do, so I just stood there and watched him sashay across the long, open room--past the long, leather sofa sat before a large flat screen TV, past the shabby-chic dining set, past the gleaming cooking island--and into the kitchen.

"I think I've still got some beer," he called out, voice seeming to echo off the walls as he pulled the fridge open. "You want one, mate?"

"I...you live here?" I asked, finally taking a few steps forward. There was a door to my right, and taking a few more steps to pass it, I could see the wall off the living area curved back, presumably leading down a hallway. Gabe stood frozen at the breakfast nook, holding two brown bottles of beer.

"Yeah. I live here." His tone was slow and slightly patronizing, but his stance was uncertain and pigeon-toed.

"I...what do you do?"

"What do I do?" he repeated, the skin between his brows puckering.

"What do you do for a living? What's your job?" I could hear it in my voice, something edging on anger. I felt as though I'd been slapped hard in the face. Something about this just seemed wrong, like some big joke at my expense, like he was toying with me.

"Well, nothing now, probably. I've been away from work for so long helping you that I'm pretty sure my boss won't have me back." He was going from slightly confused and self-conscious to angry very, very rapidly.

"Okay," I conceded. "What were you doing before you started helping me?" I watched his face shift as he glared at me, shuffling his stance to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders. He looked ready for a fight.

"Bartending."

"Bartending!" I laughed--a maniacal noise I had absolutely no control over. Doubled over laughing, my body started to sink until I found myself sitting on the end of the low shelf in the foyer. I couldn't stop, watching as his face hardened into a scowl, his tongue flicked against the point of his canine. For some reason, this made me laugh harder. Looking back, I was probably exhausted--both physically and emotionally over-tired from running around, from not knowing what would happen next. It was all nearly too much, this rigamarole. At the time, though, it felt like I was finally--blissfully--losing what was left of my mind. He had put the beers down on the table by the time I'd wiped the tears from my eyes--his arms crossed over his chest.

"You done laughin'?"

"I think," I wheezed, grasping my knees and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, "Bartending! Of course. How else would you be able to afford a place like this. Bartending." My anger fizzled out into a dull burn through the centre of my chest, not unlike the heat of swallowing straight alcohol.

"You wanna know or not?" he asked finally, voice low and nearly defeated. I didn't look up at him. I couldn't. Instead, I stared down at the pristine floor between my feet and rubbed at my suddenly pounding head.

"Sure."

"My parents bought me it." I nearly laughed again, only this time scornfully, until I looked up at the edge in his voice. His own gaze was averted, staring off to the side, down what I assumed was a hallway, his cheeks red. He looked, for the first time since I'd met him, embarrassed. The laugh died in my throat, coming out as a huffed breath.

The thought suddenly occurred to me, and I spoke it aloud: "You could have given me the money, right?" He shuffled from foot to foot, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. After a long moment, he nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Only you said you didn't want any handouts, remember?" His tone was defensive, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Yeah," I nodded, letting out a long exhalation. "I remember."

A moment's heavy pause lapsed. He still wasn't meeting my gaze--still stood pigeon toed, gnawing on his thumbnail as he stared down the hallway. My body lifted itself up of its own accord, and I felt myself drawn deeper into the flat until we were only millimetres apart.

"I, uhm...I'm sorry, Gabe. I didn't mean to..." The words left me in a hush, stirring the hair at the crown of his ducked head. I watched him shrug, slide his thumbnail from his mouth and drop his hand to his side. A few quiet seconds passed between us before he reached out and pulled me to him by my belt loops.

"Just...trust me a little more, yeah?" he breathed against my collar. "Got ya this far, ain’t I?"

"You have," I sighed, pulling him closer, my arms wrapped tight around his waist. We stood there for a few moments, holding each other in silence.

"C'mon," Gabe said finally, pulling back. He grasped me gently by the wrist, tugging me away from the kitchen. "I got sumfink for ya."

*****************

He led me to what I later found was the guest bedroom, squeezing my hand as he flicked on the light. He threw me a sly smirk over his shoulder, and I watched as he crossed over to the room's only window--a pane of glass that stretched almost from floor to ceiling. He beckoned me over to him with a jerk of his head as he pulled the curtains back. With the lights on, it was impossible to see anything but his reflection thrown against the window. Blurred through my tired eyes, his face wasn't much more than a pale smudge on the darkened glass.

I felt him grasp the waistband of my jeans, pulling me closer to him, peering up at me with a contrite look on his face. "I wanna try somethin', yeah?"

The most I could muster in response was a small shrug, too exhausted by everything--the running, the stress, the stupid bit of contention between Gabe and I in the kitchen just moments before--to do more than blink down at him through bleary eyes. His face brightened, a look of relief washing over him as he stood on his toes to kiss the corner of my mouth, a whispered 'genius' hanging between us as he pulled back. He fixed me with a heavy gaze for a long moment before lurching back up onto his toes, kissing me again--deeper this time, more heated. I abandoned myself to it, allowing him in, his tongue flicking against the back of my teeth, mine curling against his.

I could feel my cock lazily beginning to swell as his hands stroked over my chest, my back, peeling my shirt away. This, I thought, is exactly what I needed at that moment--to allow myself to get lost in him for a while, to revel in this proximity until everything else became inconsequential. It wasn't until I watched as he trailed biting kisses down my chest that I realized we were still standing in front of the window, the light from the ceiling illuminating his ever-widening grin.

Quickly, he spun me towards the glass. My hands shot out, bracing myself against either side of the window, my own bewildered face reflected back at me. I watched in the darkened glass as his hands traced over my chest and stomach, fingers dancing over my zip. The top of his head appeared suddenly over my shoulder, meeting my reflected gaze.

"Can you feel it?" he asked, slipping his hand into my now opened jeans, fisting me gently. "Strangers on the street, in the building across the alley. Their eyes on you. Hmm?" Excitement spiked along my spine even as shame started to swirl in my belly. I could feel it, was the thing. It felt as though a sea of people had gathered to watch us in the darkness beyond. I was torn between wanting to run screaming from the room, and wanting to stand my ground and let everyone see, though the instinct to run was slightly stronger. "They're gonna watch you come for me," he breathed into my ear as he pulled me free. I brought my hands down quickly, covering myself.

"I, uhm, I don't know about this, Gabriel."

"Eli, trust me, yeah?" He nuzzled behind my ear, kissing me gently. "It'll be fine--I promise. I know what you need, and I know how to keep you safe."

I'm almost ashamed to admit, but that's all it took. I removed my hands, placing them back on either side of the window as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He pushed my jeans and pants down where they pooled at my ankles, and kicked my legs apart as far as they could go. I felt his hands running down my back, palms caressing my sides as he reached around to toy with my nipples. His breath grazed my shoulder as he told me to stay where I was--his footsteps retreating, echoing down the hall.

I caught my own gaze in the window's reflection and silently cursed myself. My father's words flooded my mind--"A fool and a fornicator, both". Oh if he only knew; I'd allowed myself to be led around by the cock into armed robbery and murder. On the run from the police. Constantly distracted by brilliant blue eyes, a wicked tongue and clever hands. Opening myself up to a man I know nothing about who can read me like a book. And who now has me naked and hard before a picture window where anyone could see us, call the cops, have us arrested on indecency charges. Which could trigger a series of events that could land us both in jail for a very, very long time.

I jumped when I felt Gabe's hand on my shoulder, snapping me violently out of my reverie. Hearing the sound of a bottle being uncapped behind me, I bent forward without being told and was rewarded with a series of kisses across my back. His slick fingers traced my crease, fingertips teasing my hole until a quiet plea escaped my lips. With a soft chuckle, he roughly pushed a finger into me, the burn of it forcing a strangled cry from my mouth. His tongue circled the vertebrae at the top of my spine as I let out a huff of breath, rocking my hips to meet his lengthening strokes. He took his time, keeping me in front of the window for as long as possible before breaching me with a second finger. The desire to come mingled with my growing shame, swirling in my belly, pooling at the base of my spine.

"Please, Gabe," I choked out, closing my eyes to my reflection--to the judgement of the invisible audience below us.

The only response I received was a small tutting noise vibrating against my shoulder as his fingertips pressed hard against that spot deep inside me. I pressed my forehead to the cool windowpane as I pushed my hips back, and was met with a hard slap to my arse.

"Straighten up, yeah?" His voice was heavy, strained.

I did as I was told, standing up a bit straighter as he continued to stroke his fingers over my prostate, flexing his wrist. My forehead wrinkled against the cold glass beneath it, my hand leaving the wall to grasp my aching erection. Gabe bit my shoulder hard, his tongue stroking over the skin caught between his crooked teeth before sucking at it. A sob rattled in my chest and broke in my throat before tumbling out of my mouth. Tears prickled behind my eyelids, stinging me. I made another, softer plea--so close to the edge my body was trembling as I struggled to stay upright.

"You can come any time you want, Eli," Gabe whispered against my saliva slicked skin. He waited until I'd begun stroking myself in earnest before adding, "Show out for the people, yeah? Let them see you come undone."

I came with a shudder and a strangled moan, falling to my knees as he pulled free of me. I opened my eyes--my watery gaze falling upon my release, trailing slowly down the windowpane. Gabe's fingers gripped my hair firmly, moving my face towards the glass as he instructed me to 'clean up my mess'. I wondered, somewhere in the back of my mind, why I was going along with this as my tongue streaked saliva and semen over the glass til it was clear. As Gabe turned my head towards his lap, I realized that I was somehow enjoying these proceedings. Another jolt of shame struck me at my core.

I watched through tired eyes as Gabe pulled himself free, his other hand still gripping the hair at the back of my head. I opened my mouth when the head of his cock bumped the corner of it, but he pulled back from me. He repeated this process several times until I pleaded for him to let me suck him off--his shaft slipping between my lips, filling my mouth with his familiar taste. I sucked, my cheeks hollowing, and was grateful of the fist in my hair holding me still as he began to thrust--too exhausted to move on my own. I spluttered when he came, his release trickling down my throat, and coughed outright once he pulled out. I collapsed against the floor, realizing only after I'd stopped coughing that I was crying, openly weeping with my face pressed against his expensive wood floor.

I wept for everything I'd lost--what was left of my father's respect, my mother, the man I thought I was before I met Gabe, the man I had tried to be, any sense of normalcy, my relationship with Jen. I wept for the situation I found myself in, how absolutely hopeless the whole thing felt. I wept until dry heaves made my stomach clench and my throat constrict.

And through it all, Gabe was there--folding my too-large frame into his arms, rocking me as best he could, carding his fingers gently through my hair. "You're alright, darlin'," he assured in a whisper. "I've gotcha. You're alright. That's it--let it out. Just let it go, there ya are, darlin'." I'd calmed considerably before he whispered, "Look, Eli," grasping my chin to lift my head toward the window.

I opened my eyes, blinking in confusion. Sometime between letting me fall to the floor and scooping me into his arms, he'd managed to turn out the lights--the darkness surrounding us allowing me to see out the window for the first time. My gaze was met by nothing more than the plain brick wall of the building opposite us, much closer than I'd anticipated. I leaned forward and could see that the narrow alleyway below us was so crowded with discarded items--old bits of furniture, rusted out machines--it'd be impossible for anything larger than a stray cat to navigate. My head fell back against Gabe's shoulder, a weak laugh of relief escaping me as the last of the tension drained from my limbs. The full weight of my body collapsed against Gabe's wiry frame, and we fell gracelessly back onto the floor.

He tangled our legs together, kicking my jeans and pants off my legs the rest of the way, freeing my ankles. Spent, my body felt too heavy to lift, but my soul felt weightless, clean and full of light. I let my head fall to the side, nuzzling at his throat until I could feel the steady beat of his pulse under my nose.

"Thank you," I breathed, barely more than a whisper.

"S'alright." I smiled at the warmth of his tone, lips stretching against his neck. "You needed it, mate."

 

***************

"It's been three days. Do you think--" Eli cuts himself off, wringing his hands in his lap. He's perched himself on top of the toilet lid and is watching the careful, steady movement of Gabe pulling his razor across his skin, shearing away the stubble. His left side is completely smooth. It strikes Eli suddenly how young and effeminate Gabe looks without the stubble, and he has to hold in a nervous chuckle.

"Do I think what, mate?" Gabe mumbles, rinsing his razor out in the basin, splashing water to and fro.

"Nothing. I'm just needlessly worrying. Not that I don't have any right to worry--not that I shouldn't be worried, what with everything that's going on. It's just--" It's Gabe who cuts him off this time with a shaving-foamy kiss. "Do you think she's decided yet?" he asks, the second their lips part. Gave gives him a weary grin, turning once more to resume his ablutions.

"I think it's a big decision, and she's trying her best, yeah? S'not really something you can just decide over breakfast. It ain't like going skating or to the park, mate. S'raising a tiny human being with someone you--" Gabe flicks his eyes towards Eli in the mirror, looking conflicted for a moment before continuing his thought, "Someone you might not recognize anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. S'just..."-he brings the razor down again, splash! splash!-"It was prolly a shock, is all. Thinking for--what? four years?--that you're straight as an arrow and then come to find out you've been letting me bugger you senseless practically since we met." He gives a little shrug, the rasp of razor against stubble sounding almost too loud in the small, echo-y space. "I mean, if she didn't know that about you...I dunno. Why do we bother talkin’, huh? I told you when we met I'm no good at it."

"I haven't told her," Eli mutters, head hanging.

"What?"

"I haven't told her about you. I mean...she knows about you. In a roundabout way. She just...you know...doesn't know you're a man."

"You told her I'm a woman?! So, what? If I ever wanna be seen with you, I gotta wear a dress now? Coz lemme tell ya, mate--I'm fairly fuckin' certain I wouldn't make for a pretty bird."

"No, no. I didn't tell her you're a man. But I didn't correct her when she assumed you're a woman." He looks up hesitantly, hearing a disbelieving laugh above him, to see Gabe hastily rubbing his face dry with a towel. He pulls the stopper from the basin's drain with more force than necessary.

"Unbelievable. Un-be-fucking-lievable. I just...God damn it, Eli!" He laughs again, a bitter, scornful sound. "I just...fuck! You really are somethin', you know that? I gotta constantly reassure you I'm still interested in ya, I'm real fuckin' careful with ya all the time, I gotta make sure your...your stupid fuckin' sense of masculinity is still intact, gotta try to calm your fears about some higher being hatin' ya for lovin' me--and what do I get in return, huh? You can't even tell your ex I have a dick. This, this is just...fuckin' great, Eli. You're really somethin', you know that?"

He pushes past Eli, making a hasty retreat from the room. Eli feels the urge to follow him, the confined tiled space suddenly too hot--and then he realizes the heat is an internal thing, as opposed to an external force. He's burning up, and while he can't figure out if the rise in temperature is due to anger or shame, he's certain he needs to remove his jumper before it either cooks or strangles him to death. He bumps clumsily into the commode, attempting to both divest himself of his scratchy knitted prison and follow Gabe down the narrow hall. He attempts to ditch his jumper on the floor--knowing full well he'll be yelled at for it--and the cuff catches on his wrist. He wrenches his hand from the fabric's grasp and turns, colliding into Gabriel, who is suddenly standing next to him looking both sullen and slightly amused.

"I need a cigarette," he informs, his tone haughty. Eli grabs him by the wrist, registering Gabe's glance at the abandoned jumper on his pristine floor as he turns, pulling the smaller man towards the bedroom. "Look, Eli," Gabe sighs, still allowing himself to be towed along, "I'm too angry for angry sex right now, okay? Just--where'd you leave the fags, hmm?"

The bedroom, naturally, is the coldest room in the flat, and the rush of air that hits him makes Eli wish he hadn't preemptively ditched his layers. He lets go of Gabe's wrist, barely registering the angry red braclet his fingers left behind, and snatches his mobile up off the bedside table, holding it up in front of Gabe's face.

"S'a phone, mate," Gabe says slowly, as if trying to explain something to a child. He watches with a cocked eyebrow, the tip of his tongue wedged into the corner of his mouth, as Eli presses buttons on the phone. He holds it up once more, thumb poised on the call button, the name Jen on the screen, underscored by her mobile number. Gabe's eyes widen a fraction, but he remains silent, the absence of noise almost challenging.

Eli presses the button, holds the phone up to his ear. A few steps away, Gabe shifts his weight, cocking a hip, crosses his arms over his skinny, bare chest.

"Eli? Hello?"

Eli belatedly realizes he's been paying attention to nothing but the configuration of Gabriel's limbs, and it takes him a moment to refocus on his objective. He clears his throat.

"Hi, Jen. Sorry. I uhm...I just think there's something important I need to tell you. No. I know there's something important I need to tell you. And I, uhm..." He sinks down, sitting at the foot of the bed, suddenly reticent, the wind leaving his sails a bit. Gabe's trying to avert his eyes and failing--he keeps cutting his gaze back to Eli and biting hard at his lip. Eli clears his throat, softer this time, and tries again. "I didn't mean to keep this from you, but with everything else that's been going on...there didn't seem to be a proper time to tell you this, or any correct way. But I didn't want to go on keeping this from you, either. So...that's why I'm calling."

Near silence on the other end of the line. He can tell she's steeling herself for what's to come. "Alright," she finally concedes. "What is it?"

"I'm not seeing another woman." The truth, but still too close to a lie to be permissible. "That is to say--I am seeing someone. Currently."

The silence is more confused now than anything; or perhaps it’s a hesitancy to put the pieces together herself, as though somehow she'd be responsible for the picture they would reveal--like bringing an obscene jigsaw puzzle to a church function.

"What are you saying, Eli?" He can tell by the tone of her voice that it's already there, inhabiting the shadowy space in back of her mind, just waiting for his word before they come rushing out into the light.

"A man, Jennifer," he says softly, almost apologetically. "I'm dating a man."

For a long moment, there is nothing on the other end of the line, and then, suddenly, a light wash of air. "Oh."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence for a while, the three of them, Eli and Jen and Gabe, under the weight of what's just happened, attempting not to be up-ended by the sudden shifts in perspective: the way Jen may now view Eli, how Eli might view himself, even how Gabe might view Jen, depending on her reaction to this news. Gabe shuffles forward suddenly, the sound too loud amid the surrounding silence, and sinks down, squeezing into the gap between Eli's knees. He wraps his arm part-way round Eli's hips, grasping at his waistband, his fingers brushing the skin of his lower back, and rests his head on Eli's thigh.

"Oh," Jen repeats.

"Yeah," Eli echoes.

"Well, um...th-thank you for telling me?" It's clear to him by her tone that she has no idea what to do with this information.

"Yep. Right." His response is stilted, awkward. He waits for her to say goodbye before hanging up, tossing his phone off to the side and flopping onto his back. "Well," he sighs, "That's done, then."

Gabe crawls up his body, his weight comforting as he rests his forehead against Eli's collarbone, pulling at his shirt collar to expose more skin--pressing kisses into his chest. "M'proud of you, Eli," he says softly.

Eli smiles, wrapping his arms around Gabe's bony frame. "You need to eat more--have you lost weight?"

"Shh," Gabe urges gently, turning his head towards the window. Eli can feel an enthusiastic grin spreading against his skin. "It's snowing again," he says, adding with a wistful sigh, "I think I would have really loved the snow."

It isn't the first utterly confusing thing Gabe has said or done since they've been staying in his flat. Their first morning here together, Gabe completely freaked out over Eli leaving his things all over the floor, ranting about how he can't have the flat a mess and exhibiting symptoms of a mild panic attack--symptoms Eli knows quite well. Eli had rushed to pick his things up off the floor and just stood there holding them until Gabe had calmed enough to inform him he could put his things anywhere he liked in the master bedroom--the only room in the house apparently allowed to be in disarray, Gabe's various articles of clothing, bits of jewelry, magazines and DVDs strewn about haphazardly on every available surface. Eli had tried to subtly question him about it later that afternoon, but Gabe artfully dodged each inquiry. A similar situation arose yesterday, in which Eli turned the heating down by just a few degrees and was met with the same alarmingly dramatic reaction from Gabe--ranting about how he can't stand to be cold and generally flying into a blind panic.

So Eli stays silent, opting instead to simply trace up and down Gabe's spine with his fingertips.

"I like to watch the snowflakes hit the window, though," Gabe says finally, after a long stretch of silence. "Makes driving in this weather pretty dangerous."

"You mean to tell me I've been in mortal danger this whole time I've let you drive me around?" Eli snorts out a chuckle as Gabe slaps his bicep and receives a pinch to the side in retaliation. Eli's phone buzzes next to his hip, the screen reading 'Michael'. He groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. "Guess who?"

"Don't answer it," Gabe says flatly, still watching the snow fall outside the window.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, fuck 'im. He don't know you're here."

"You think?" The question is moot, though, as Michael's hung up by the time Eli finishes asking it. They lay there in companionable silence for a long moment before Eli says, "I love it, you driving me around in the snow. At night, especially. When it flies past, it looks like stars whizzing by. I've thought that since I was a kid, actually. I always used to watch the windscreen between my parent's heads on snowy-night drives because of that. I figured that must be what astronauts see we they look out the window of a rocket."

"Did you wanna be an astronaut when you was a kid?" Gabe asks quietly, pulling at one of Eli's errant curls.

"Nope."

This, of course, earns a barking laugh from Gabe--Eli silently marveling at how Gabe works his jaw with each big laugh, as though trying to bite hunks of sound in half to share.

*******

Eli wakes later that night to Gabe's breath stirring the curls behind his ear. He pushes his body back into Gabe's, smiling to himself when he feels Gabe's hold tighten round his waist. It's mid-week, the traffic light outside the window, the night's near-quiet allowing him to hear the change in Gabe's breathing.

"I know you're awake," Eli mumbles. He feels Gabe's lips spread in a smile against his nape.

"So?" Gabe challenges, pressing light kisses into his neck. Eli shrugs, wriggling further into his embrace. It's technically the third time he's woken up from a dead sleep, the earlier events of the day rushing back to him, Gabe's words echoing in his mind over and over--"...some higher power hatin' ya for lovin' me...lovin' me...". He turns until he's facing Gabe, presses their foreheads together.

"What are you doing awake?" Eli asks, palm rubbing up and down the length of the arm thrown round his hips. It's Gabe's turn to shrug, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Eli's mouth in lieu of an answer. Eli sighs into it, surprises himself into momentary stasis when his tongue sweeps over Gabe's bottom lip before he decides to jump in boots and all and suck the younger man's lip between his teeth, biting gently. Gabe shivers, laughs breathlessly, and kisses him back hungrily, his grip on Eli's hip tightening, possessive.

"...for lovin' me...for lovin' me..."

Eli pushes at Gabe's shoulders until he's laying on his back. He was planning on grinding into him the way he had their first night at Eli's flat, yet he somehow finds himself straddling Gabe's hips. He can feel Gabe's cock between his cheeks and he shudders, rocking his hips experimentally, coaxing a moan from him. Gabe reaches over to grab the lube off the nightstand and it suddenly occurs to Eli where this could possibly be heading. The thought makes him nervous, but not enough to roll onto his back and wave the proverbial white flag. He takes the bottle from Gabe's hand and uncaps it, spreading the cool gel over the smaller man's fingers with his own trembling digits.

"I uhm..." He clears his throat, tries again. “I've never done this before."

"We don't have to, Eli," Gabe breathes, stroking a soft palm up and down the outside of Eli's thigh. "But if I was gonna kick you outta bed for being kinda awkward, I'd have done it ages ago." He smirks up at him.

The corner of Eli's mouth quirks up and he swallows back his trepidation. Slowly, he raises his hips, guiding Gabe's slick fingers between his thighs until they're stroking gently between his arse cheeks, searching. Eli crawls up Gabe's body a bit, making the reach easier. His eyes close and his head falls forward as Gabe starts pumping the first finger in and out in earnest. He can feel Gabe staring up at him and his body flushes hotter as he pushes back against the thrusting digit.

"M-more, please," he manages, feeling Gabe's free hand stroking at his thigh. Gabe's room, usually so cool, suddenly feels like a sauna--Eli can feel a thin film of sweat beginning to form around his hairline as two fingers breach him slowly. He can sense Gabe's gaze heavy upon his face, and suddenly feels just as he had in front of the window, so exposed. He arches into Gabe's wriggling fingers with a low whine, his brows knitting together. Gabe shushes him, his hand still stroking his thigh soothingly as he continues to carefully open Eli up.

"I know you ain't done this before," Gabe says softly, "So we're gonna take this slow, yeah? S'gonna feel different than it usually does."

"Different, how?"

"Deeper," Gabe breathes, crooking his fingers.

"Christ," Eli curses under his breath, gripping the headboard. He wills himself to relax, to be patient, until he feels a third finger being eased into him. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose before asking in a low, quiet voice, "How, uhm...how do I do this, exactly?" His eyes snap open at the sudden feel of Gabe's fist closing around his dick, stroking him to fullness.

"Well," Gabe begins, cocking his head to one side, "you could, y'know, like, bounce. Or rock your hips. Or both. Just do what feels good, yeah?"

"Bounce?!"

"You ain't gonna crush me, Eli," Gabe chuckles, flexing his fingers, mumbling under his breath, "Christ, you're always so tight."

"I don't know if you've noticed," Eli forces out, brow furrowed deep as Gabe continues to stretch him, "but I'm a bit high-strung."

Gabe laughs, a breathy chuckle escaping his saliva slicked lips, before suddenly turning serious. "I should have taken things slower with you."

"It's possible to go slower than this?" Eli asks, pushing his hips into Gabe's still hand.

"Never mind," Gabe sighs, pulling his fingers free. He grips Eli's hips, attempting to push him back into a workable position. "Have at it."

"And I'm supposed to bounce?"

"Let's just concentrate on getting my cock inside ya, yeah?" Grasping his wrist, Gabe encourages Eli to wrap his hand around the base of his shaft, to line him up. "Take it slow," he instructs, stroking his hands soothingly over the outside of Eli's thighs, his hips.

Eli takes a deep breath, braces his free hand against the mattress next to Gabe's hip, and begins to sink down slowly, until the head of Gabe's cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. He pauses for a moment, a nervous sound--not quite a laugh, not quite anything else, either--escapes his lips. "This already feels weird." He forces the words out in a hushed tone.

"We can stop if you--"

"No, no. I want to." He begins moving again, sinking more of his weight down into Gabe's lap. "I just...don't know what I'm doing."

His confession hangs disregarded in the quiet of the bedroom as he moves--small hums and grunts filling the empty spaces between the two of them as Eli continues his slow descent until finally, thankfully, his arse is brushing the tops of Gabe's thighs. He stares at the pale expanse of lower stomach beneath him, his own hands at either side, fingers splayed against the sheets. It really does feel deeper with his weight anchoring him to Gabe's hips, and he feels so full it's almost enough to steal the breath from him. Gabe's hands are grasping his hips now, thumbs stroking the hollow dip of bones as he stares up at Eli through half-lidded eyes.

"So," Eli breathes, voice a bit shaky. "Do I start bouncing now, or--"

"Damn it, Eli, forget the bouncing," Gabe huffs and pulls at Eli's hips, jerking him forward a bit, forcing a grunt from the larger man, "Just rock your hips, yeah? Or you can kinda...move them in a circle. Just, whatever feels good to ya, alright?"

"Alright," Eli agrees, rocking his hips experimentally. It feels strange, in a pleasurable way, and the sensation makes him want to laugh. He tries leaning forward a bit, which feels even stranger, and this time, he does laugh, a sound as sporadic as the pattern of raindrops against pavement. He watches Gabe's face split into a warm grin beneath him as he continues to grind, hands slipping against sheets until the angle has changed and Gabe isn't as deep as he was before, allowing him to plant his feet flat against the mattress and thrust up into him, and suddenly things become less funny. Eli's eyes fall closed, a soft moan rumbling through his ribcage as they move together, Gabe's grip still firm on his hips.

"Yeah?"

"God, yes."

"Genius."

And it is, the position affording Eli more control than being on his back and completely at Gabe's mercy. It's not enough control to frighten him--not with Gabe's hands clutching his hips, steering him towards the right pace, his voice drifting up to him in breathy direction intermixed with praise. The feel of it is intoxicating, and within a matter of minutes Eli is practically delirious--movements no longer timid, mind too far gone to be calculated--moved purely by desire and instinct as he writhes atop Gabe's lap, one hand braced against the mattress, the other on the headboard. Somewhere in a still-functioning corner of his mind, Gabe's words from earlier keep echoing back to him on a loop--'for lovin' me...loving me...'

"Eli?" Gabe gasps breathlessly beneath him, fingers stroking his thighs. Eli grunts in response, continuing his movements, brow furrowed deep, concentrating only on that spot inside him as the head of Gabe's cock strokes over it again and again. "You're bouncing."

He knows Gabe has said something important--his tone provocative, tinged with amusement even in its breathlessness--but it's impossible to latch onto what's been said with his release so tantalizingly close. There's a bead of sweat clinging to the hair of his eyebrow, threatening to fall and potentially blind him at any moment, but that seems awfully unimportant as well. All he can do is tip his head back as the previously fluid movement of his hips start to stutter erratically. His thighs ache, he's drenched in sweat, and he can feel his erection bobbing embarrassingly with his every movement, but none of that matters as his release crashes violently into him like a meteor screaming through the heavens.

He rides it out, hips continuing to rock even as Gabe's fingertips dig into him uncomfortably--even as he feels the hot slap of Gabe's release deep inside of him. Eli watches Gabe come down from the high as they ride it out together--the way his face goes from grimace-creased to slack-jawed and smooth as he sags back, boneless against the mattress. His eyelids drag themselves apart slowly as Eli's hips cease their motion, and his eyes dance with mirth. "The fuck was that all about," he laughs joyfully, fingers still clutching for Eli's hips even as he slides off his lap, thighs marathon-runner sore.

Eli reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and sets about cleaning himself up. Gabe's fingers close around his wrist as he reaches out to tidy him up. "Eli?" he asks softly, thumb stroking over his knuckles, "S'matter?"

"I love you." He didn't mean to say it out loud--wasn't even aware he'd been thinking it--but the words come rushing out of his mouth all the same. Eli groans at the look of naked surprise on Gabe's face and hides his own in the pillow.

"Don't be stupid," Gabe chuckles finally, bringing the covers up over them both, "You're..., is all."

"If you say so," Eli mumbles, allowing Gabe to cling to his back like a limpet. "But I'm pretty sure I do."

"Do what?"

"Love you! What d'you..." looking at Gabe over his shoulder, he trails off at the smug look on his face, "Oh, you...arsehole." Eli pulls the pillow up over his head as Gabe cackles, jostling Eli with his knees and elbows as his body contorts with laughter.

"Aw, Eli," Gabe gasps out, calming a bit as he pries the pillow off Eli's head. "I'm just messin' with ya--It's just nice to hear, is all."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Eli grumbles, snatching his pillow away from Gabe and jamming it back under his head. "'It's just nice to hear is all'. I bet it is."

"It is!" Gabe cries, his voice rising in pitch.

"I bet it is," Eli repeats, voice tense. He shrugs Gabe off his back and rolls over to stare at the ceiling.

"Oh," Gabe says, finally catching on. "Eli..."

"No, it's fine. I don't want you to say anything you don't mean." It's the truth, but Eli ultimately can't hide the hurt in his voice. Gabe sighs heavily, sitting up and swinging a leg over Eli's lap, pinning him beneath his compact frame. He leans down, pressing small, soft kisses to Eli's mouth until he relents and kisses back. Eli moans softly--Gabe sucking on his bottom lip before pulling back and breaking the kiss.

"I just..." Gabe fixes his eyes on Eli's, his demeanor as serious now as when he was orchestrating their robbery plans. "The last serious relationship I was in, it took me six months before I said 'I love you' for the first time, yeah? I just...that's not something I rush into." He shrugs, stroking his hands soothingly over Eli's chest.

"This one of your 'I'm not good with words' things?" The amount of petulance in Eli's voice makes him cringe, and he reaches out to stroke Gabe's thighs in silent apology.

"Kinda, yeah," Gabe shrugs, continuing to trace maddening little patterns against Eli's chest, stroking with flattened palms, "Words get fucked up all the time. S'just easier, for me to...I dunno, use action to get my point across. Y'know?"

Eli, in fact, doesn't know, having always been too afraid of failing to do or say much of anything when it really counts. Blurting 'I love you' a few moments ago was the first real emotional risk he'd taken in a long time--barring the fight with his father. He was expecting the payout to be more rewarding with this, though. He starts wondering just exactly which of Gabe's actions are most evident of his affections, when he's suddenly distracted by a scraping near his right nipple. He glances down, thinking maybe Gabe is scratching him with his fingernails and notices for the first time--Gabe's still wearing his wedding ring, the eternity band's various settings scratching softly at his skin.

"Yeah," Eli says finally. "I think I do."


	14. 13. Death

"Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it."  
\--David Foster Wallace

 

In the ensuing weeks, Gabe and I stopped leaving the flat as frequently. That first morning in Gabe's flat, he and I did the grocery shop after discovering the lack of coffee in Gabe's kitchen. We stocked up, buying enough food and household items to last the week. After carefully planning meals for the coming week--Gabe had grown to love my cooking over the short time we'd spent holed up in my flat planning the robbery--we'd begun writing up a shopping list when we first saw it.

"Breaking news in the Bank Royale robbery," a newscaster's voice cut through our discussion of which variety of potato is best in a stew. I snatched up the remote, turning the volume up, and watched in stunned silence as I was caught up on what evidence the police had; the rag containing DNA was the last I'd heard about at that point. Sometime in the interim, Eddie's body had been found and connected to the robbery by information the tellers gave to the police--at this point, the newscaster listed off two sets of measurements, mine and Jack's. Jack's were pretty spot-on, and I let out a breath of relief when I realized 'my' measurements were a few pounds too light and a couple inches too tall.

Gabe stretched his leg out across the sofa, poking me with his big toe as he said, "Time to start slouching. Prolly wouldn't hurt to feed you up a bit, too," his eyes never leaving the piece of paper on which he was still scrawling our list. The truly devastating thing was what came next--a composite sketch of Gabe's face, provided by one of the security guards in charge of patrolling the bank's car park.

"Uh, G-gabe," I stuttered, nudging his leg to get his attention.

I watched him turn his attention to the TV screen. He looked almost bored as he turned his attention back to the list, scoffing, "My nose ain't that wonky."

"That's not the issue here, Gabriel!" I balked before adding, "And it is, actually."

"Is it?" Gabe sounded uninterested as I watched him write down 'red potatoes' on the list.

"This is a big deal, Gabe. And I told you, russet potatoes are better for a stew." I made a grab for the list, attempting to keep both his wrists in my free hand. He broke free, but relented the sheet of paper to me.

"It is not a big deal, Eli--I have a plan, alright?" He lunged at me, and we toppled to the floor. The remote fell of the sofa cushion--the back fell off and the batteries came out, clattering across the wood paneling. "And don't be stupid," Gabe huffed. He shoved his hand in my pocket, retrieving my cigarette packet, "Russets are too starchy to make an enjoyable stew."

"Fuck the stew," I bit out, rolling onto my back and turning my head to stare at him. He was laid out on his side, one hand propping up his head, the other lighting his fag. Aside from the minute widening of his eyes at hearing that seldomly used curse I spat from my mouth, he looked the picture of ease, "What's this plan of yours?"

"Don't worry 'bout that, yeah?" Gabe held the cigarette to my lips and I took a begrudging pull, "You got nothin' to worry about, Eli. I've got it covered."

I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the floor. "I suppose begging won't get you to clue me in, either, right?"

He smirked. "Beggin' only works on me in the bedroom, mate."

I laid there next to on the floor for a long stretch, the news continuing to drone on in the background. He sat up and dropped the spent fag end down the neck of my tepid beer. I watched as he spun on his arse and threw a leg over my middle, sitting lightly on my lap.

"It'll be okay, Eli," he took my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing my fingertips, "I promise, yeah?"

I let out a breath and nodded. It was getting more and more difficult--no matter how safe he'd kept me thus far--to hand him all of my trust, receiving nothing in return.

But what other choice did I have?

********************

"Tell me a story, yeah?"

I rolled over, rubbing at my bleary eyes in an attempt to pull him into focus. Over his shoulder, the neon letters of the digital clock declared the hour 4am, yet Gabe looked as though he hadn't slept since we laid down hours before. I must've been glaring, because he gave me a sheepish look and a shrug, stating simply, "I can't sleep."

"The only stories I really know are from the Bible," I sighed, opening my arms to him. He snuggled in against me, throwing an arm over my waist.

"S'fine, I don't mind," he murmured into my neck.

"Well..." I thought for a long while, Gabe tracing meandering lines up and down my back with his fingertips. I wracked my brain, trying to remember a story I thought Gabe might enjoy. I was distracted, however, by Gabe grinding lightly against my thigh. "Are you sure a story is what you're after?"

"Cheeky."

"How'm I the cheeky one in this situation, huh?" My eyes slipped closed, too tired to hold them open any longer. I felt him press a warm kiss into the base of my neck before slipping from my arms as I moaned in protest.

"C'mon," he said softly, "On your tum."

"Thought you wanted a story." I mumbled, moving to comply. His body covered mine immediately--his stubble scratching softly at my nape as he mouthed my skin. He scraped his teeth over my skin and pulled back, shimmying down my body.

"I can't have both?" he breathed, tongue tracing my shoulderblade. When I refused to answer, he bit a path trailing serpentine around my spine. "Lift your hips."

He groped and squeezed my arse as my pelvis rose from the mattress. I barely had time to support myself steadily with my arms before his mouth was back on me, his tongue snaking wetly down my crease. I gasped, tottering a bit on tired arms before coming to an ungraceful rest on my elbows. He chuckled, the sound muffled by my...by me. His tongue flattened, licking in broad strokes as I tried not to wriggle.

"I thought I asked for a story," he breathed, pointing his tongue suddenly. I jumped--he chuckled once more.

"Don't be cruel," I gasped out, pushing my hips back as he finally penetrated me. He gave a noncommittal hum, his tongue beginning the slow back-and-forth slide.

We stayed relatively silent as he opened me up--first his tongue, then his fingers. His pace was slow, unhurried as he stroked in and out of me long after I was ready for him. After a long moment, he pulled free of me, shuffling on the bed until his legs where on either side of mine. He breached me slowly and steadily, stopping only when I felt short, coarse hair tickling my skin. With a shaky whisper, he instructed me to squeeze my legs together and bring my body back down onto the mattress. An arduous process we had to repeat a few times when he accidentally slid free from me.

I groaned once he was fully engulfed, the angle so tight and causing me to feel so full he actually had to remind me to breathe. He sounded as though he could have benefitted from following his own advice, his voice strained, the words bitten off at the ends. He stayed motionless for a moment, head bowed to my shoulder where I could feel him breathing. Finally, he began to move--short, slow strokes at first, Gabe needing to adjust just as much as I did.

"Balaam," I laughed breathlessly, the initial moment of tension finally dissipating.

"What?" I felt his brow furrow against the skin of my shoulder.

"You wanted a story, and I just thought of one."

"Alright," he said after some consideration, "Let's hear it."

"I'll, uhm, try to skip over the boring bits." Silently, I cursed myself for having brought up the story to begin with--talking was difficult enough for me without the added obstacle of attempting to tell a story with Gabe pressing against my prostate with each roll of his hips. "Bah--oh--Balaam was a mystic, possibly prophet, and was described as a 'very wicked man',"

"I like him already," Gabe breathed against my shoulder blade, sucking at the skin.

"Mmm, thought you would. He uhm...mmm--Oh! There. There's good. He had a--aaah--talking donkey."

Gabe cackled, the noise pleasure-broken. "Fuck, I've gotta start reading the Bible. It sounds like a real laugh-riot. Aside from all the misogyny and homophobia mixed in."

"Mmm," I groaned, my hands coming back to grasp at his hips, his arse.

"So, Balaam, then?" He whispered gently, tongue tracing along the nape of my neck.

"Y-yeah, mmm, Balaam. H-he and his donkey--"

"Talking donkey."

"Talking donkey, ooh yes, very important to the s-story. They start bickering like an old married couple. Which is wh-where," I started laughing--a breathless sound--despite myself, feeling myself spiraling closer to the edge, "We get p-possibly the best Biblical quote ever. 'Am I not thine ass, which thou hast ridden every day since thee took possession of me?'"

Gabe rolled his hips, flexing inside of me, firm against that spot inside, and I came to the sound of his laughter, punctuated by him gasping, "How appropriate". He quieted as I struggled about in the shallows of my orgasm, his pace slowed, drawing it out. I laid spent and boneless against the mattress as the momentum of his hips began to pick back up, faster and faster until he came with something akin to a strangled sob.

He crumbled against my back, the sweat from his face wetting the skin between my shoulderblades. I felt his stomach against me, shuddering as his breath was. A long moment passed as I waited for him to recover, feeling him softening inside of me, and still his breathing did not seem to calm. It took me an unforgivable amount of time to realize he was crying--chest wracked with stifled sobs.

"Gabe?" I breathed, attempting to roll over. He slid off me and onto his side, curling into a ball, turned away from me. "Gabe," I whispered again, placing my hand on his shoulder. When he didn't shrug me off, I pulled him into my arms--his back pressed tight to my chest.

"I didn't want to kill Eddie," he forced out between sobs, chest still heaving.

I was stricken momentarily dumb. I knew Gabe had his reasons for what he did, and I had assumed those reasons made him feel completely justified. I hadn't even once considered he was remorseful for it. Feeling like an idiot, I held him tighter, kissing the damp hair at his temple. "Of course you didn't. You did it to...you did it for us, right?" I said finally.

"For us," he repeated weakly. He sniffled, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. After a moment, he seemed to calm considerably, turning in my arms to press his damp face into the crook of my neck. His breath evened out and after a long stretch of silence, I assumed he had fallen to sleep. As I contemplated disentangling myself and going to the bathroom to clean myself up, he stirred in my arms, nuzzling deeper into me.

"I did it for us," he breathed with all the conviction of a prayer.

*************************

I was stretched out on the sofa when my phone buzzed against my thigh. Groaning, I wrestled it from my pocket and checked the ID--Jen.

"Yep," I answered, sitting up.

"Hey, are you free tomorrow? I think we should get together for lunch--we've got a lot to discuss." Jen's nervous voice clambered through the earpiece.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, getting up and shuffling towards the kitchen. I lifted the window and lit a cigarette, feeling suddenly anxious. It was the halting tone of Jen's voice, so small and hesitant, that tied my stomach in knots. Sudden movement in my periphery caught my attention and I turned my head in time to see Gabe winking at me, moving from the bathroom to that...private room of his.

I'd discovered it my second night there. After spending most of our time in either the master bedroom, living room and kitchen, I got curious as to what the rest of the house was like. I'd been in the guest room before, obviously, but I hadn't had a chance to really look at it. It was nice--comfortable and inviting without trying too hard. I'd already been in both bathroom, and seeing another door, attempted to open it. It was locked.

"What d'you think you're doin'?" He asked me from his spot leaned up against mouth of the hallway.

"I just...what's the big deal?" I shrugged, my hand falling from the door knob.

"No big deal. Just that's not...it's private, is all." I watched him chip away at his nail varnish, agitated.

"So...I'm not allowed, then?"

"I'd really prefer you'd not."

"Okay, Bluebeard," I laughed uneasily, backing away from the door.

I'd not been near it since.

Presently, Jen assured me, "No, no, everything's fine. I just...I've made my decision, and I just think it'd be best to meet face to face to discuss the details."

"Oh," I sighed, turning my attention towards the window. She sounded so nervous, I was sure I knew what was coming next. "Okay then."

"I know what you're probably thinking," she let out a nervous laugh as I lit another cigarette off the spent one, "I mean, we're not together anymore, and you're unemployed and my job doesn't pay that well, but...I really want to be a mother, Eli, and I just don't know...life doesn't guarantee anything, you know?"

My heart stopped for a moment, my mind swimming. "Wait, Jen--you're keeping it?"

"Well, yes. I know it's stupid--for the reasons I listed and more, but--"

I cut her off with a laugh of joy--a barking sound I'm sure made her jump, "Jen! That's great!"

"Really?" The mere tone of her voice told me she could have been knocked over with a feather.

"Yes! I...Jen, I--I know things haven't been the best between us...I wasn't the best boyfriend I could have been, but...I--I want to be the best father I can be. I just...ha. My mind is just abuzz, sorry."

"No, it's...it's fine. I'm just so glad you're not upset or--I'm just glad you're fine with this."

"Fine?! I'm over the moon!" I felt a presence behind me and turned, finding Gabe standing at the mouth of the hallway, a quizzical look on his face. On the other end of the phone was a small, delighted laugh.

"Great! I, um, I have to go now--scheduling doctor's appointments and all that--but I would still like to see you tomorrow for lunch."

"Yeah! Yes. I'll be there, don't worry." I disconnected the call, turning towards Gabe with a grin so wide it hurt my face. "That was Jen."

"Lemme guess," he said with a small grin of his own, looking more timid than I'd ever seen him before, "You're gonna be a daddy."

I nodded, keeping my mouth shut for fear of making some mad noise of joy. I thought briefly of the tales my father told me about Pentecostal churches he had once visited--of people rolling about on the floor, shouting in gibberish, and quickly cleared the thought from my mind.

"That's great, Eli," he didn't seem terribly enthused, though he didn't seem outright upset as he crossed the room and embraced me, giving a sweet, warm kiss to the corner of my mouth. "That's great. I know you were hoping..."

I held him out at arms length, eyes roving his tired face. "Are you...you're okay with this, right?"

"Sure I am. Why wouldn't I be?" A weak smile, lackluster eyes.

"Then what's...?" I trailed off, fingertips at his nape.

"I just have a headache, is all. Migraine, more like. You wanna go lay down with me?" I took him in, all of him--pigeon-toed stance at odds with his puffed out chest, his aura of self-assuredness cast in a pall of uncertainty. I wanted so desperately to know how to love him--properly, how he needed, in ways that would make me indispensable. I wanted him to need me as badly as I needed him.

"Yeah, sure, Gabe." I gave him my own weak smile, allowing him to grasp my wrist, pull me into the bedroom, onto the mattress. We kicked our jeans off, peeled away t-shirts, craving the comfort of skin. My heart still beat like paraquet wings against the brass bars of a cage, hopeful, yearning. I wondered if my father--another man unsure how to love--felt this way when Mum was pregnant. Hope and fear stumbling over each other, creating a whole other emotion altogether, one for which there was no name in English.

Under the duvet next to me, Gabe was stretched out on his back, waiting for me to wrap around his body like ivy overtaking a house. I fitted my body around him same as I slotted my life into his, looking for cracks, gaps, nooks, crannies--jamming bits of myself in, hoping they'll stick, hoping he'll not find better things to fill these spaces with. His arm--the one not wrapped round my shoulder--came up, spilling across the pillow, hand near his head, palm up. When I slept next to him, he always kept a palm up on the pillow, the mattress, as if waiting for fortune to smile upon him again, fit a pretty jewel, the keys to another fantastic flat, a new car, the number of another lover, into the curve of his palm.

I noticed this all a week before. I'd gotten up for a late-night piss, came back to discover him sleeping on his side, curled into himself, forearms round shins, knees to chin. Asleep, the slightness of his frame was not overshadowed by the magnitude of his personality, the hulking force of his will. Curled up like that, it was easier to see him as a kid of twenty-five, a small one at that, slight of frame, barely over five-eight. I wondered, as I climbed back into bed that night, what made him so tough. I resolved to get him to tell me what he filled his time with before I came along, but the timing always seemed off.

Holding him that evening after Jen's call, I noticed it again--his insubstantial frame. Solid as he was, he was still tiny, getting smaller by the second. I fitted my fingers in the gaps between his ribs and wondered. What did he dream about, laying next to me at night? What were his fears? Could I soothe any of them? What did he have to worry about, this kid of wealth, looks, charm, more smarts than he'd ever immediately betray, his whole life stretched out before him with path unobscured? He looked so relaxed, lying supine next to me like a lion sunning itself on a rock.

I knew nothing of his fears or how to soothe them, and so I projected my own onto him, and whispered, "I'm not going to stop loving you, you know." I watched his face split into an easy grin, eyelashes still dusting the tops of his cheeks as he breathed one affection-toned word back at me.

"Idiot."

***********

It was a night just like the many we'd spent since arriving at Gabe's flat. Our day was filled with languid kisses and meandering conversations that spilled into the gathering darkness of evening. As the night drew closer, though, I started noticing a change in Gabe. He became distracted--his gaze aimed toward the TV, but unfocused. Head turning toward every sudden or expected noise. Sneaking glances at the windows.

When it came time for dinner, he suggested we order some Chinese take away, but hid in the bathroom under the pretense of having a piss when the order arrived, making me handle the transaction. But he was all smiles once I shut the door behind the delivery man, emerging from the bathroom to suggest we eat on the sofa while we watched TV. Cartons and chopsticks in hand, Gabe curled into my side on the sofa, lavishing me with affection with no obvious intent of initiating sex.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked through a mouthful of eggroll.

"Wot? I have to have a reason to kiss you?" he frowned at me, shoving lo mein into his mouth.

"No, but...Nothing. You're right. I'm not complaining."

"Good." Gabe smiled at me, discarding his carton of food on the coffee table. "M'not all that hungry," he explained, noticing the look of confusion on my face.

"You don't eat nearly enough. You've lost a lot of weight since I met you."

"Uh-uh, Grimm. That's not how this works. I take care of you, remember?"

"I could take care of you from time to time," I mumbled, "I don't mind--I'd quite like to, actually. Or at least try to."

"Shh," he hushed me with a kiss, a light, sweet press of lips, "Later. I ain't done takin' care of you yet, yeah?" He pulled back, smiling at me, before glancing over his shoulder, toward the kitchen--the windows. "Matter of fact, how 'bout I nip out and get us some whiskey, yeah? Have a little cuddle, watch a film?"

"Okay, seriously--what's gotten into you?" I chuckled, wiping sweet and sour sauce from my chin. I surrendered to his generosity when he shot me a look and watched him cross to the foyer, slipping on his jacket and pulling his keys from the pocket. He turned towards the door, seemed to think better of it, and spun back around on his heel. He crossed the room quickly, his tread light, and planted a warm, wet kiss on me. He pulled back, fixed me with a heavy gaze for a moment before turning wordlessly.

And like that, he was gone.

**********

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes if there was any traffic or if the off license was busy. It shouldn't have taken longer than fifteen minutes.

I waited. After fifteen minutes, I was concerned. Thirty minutes in and I was annoyed. An hour and I was angry. An hour fifteen, I looped back round to concerned. I sat on the sofa, clicking through channels, trying to keep my cool when I recieved a text on the burner phone Gabe bought me. I picked it up with a sigh and checked it. It was from Gabe. Three words, eight characters. Black type on white background, cool and efficient. I felt my heart leap up into my throat.

i love u xx

I dropped the remote control with a clatter, my palms suddenly sweaty. I was hit with several thoughts in the span of a few short seconds.

He loves me! But he told me via text. Well, he says he loves me, anyway. Although he doesn't seem the type to lie for no reason. Just the type to keep secrets. Or not keep secrets so much as just not suddenly offer information. But this seems pretty sudden. How many times have I told him I love him, and he's said nothing in return? Why now?

I snatched up my cigarettes and shoved my phone back in my pocket as I began pacing the length of the living room. As soon as that first pull of smoke hit my lungs, I caved and pulled my phone back out, staring at the message again. Unsurprisingly, it had not changed. I tried to imagine his voice saying those words, felt my chest tighten. The only thing I wanted more than to hear him say those words out loud, was for them to be true. In the time it took me to smoke that cigarette, my mind became a pendulum, swinging back and forth between love and anger. Nearly an hour and a half, he'd been gone, and I was torn as to what to do upon his arrival--punch him or kiss him?

I shoved my now cold take away in the fridge and opened a beer, hoping to if not calm my nerves, to at least dull them. I sat on the sofa and rubbed briskly at my face, trying to find something mindless on the TV to fall into. It was during my quest for oblivion that I saw it.

"Breaking development in the Bank Royale robbery case. It seems as though a suspect matching the eye witness sketch provided by a security guard at the bank is currently in police custody. The break came when Daniel Black, the cashier of an off license in Shoreditch, phoned 999, claiming the man came in to make a purchase but was acting erratically. Black said the suspect eventually became aggressive, breaking several bottles of liquor before sitting on the counter next to the till to light a cigarette. Black said he wasn't aware of the man's apparent connection to the robbery."

***********

I started running. My things, already in and around my suitcase, weren't difficult to pack, and I was out of Gabe's flat and jogging down the pavement in a matter of moments. I wandered aimlessly for fifteen minutes before stopping, my lungs greedily pulling in cold air, releasing warm plumes of fog. My mind felt like a disorganized hive of bees--a million questions swarming without a sense of direction. I found a bus stop, sat down, and lit a cigarette.

The one question that kept resurfacing was, 'what would Gabe do in this situation?'. Gabe, of course, would be several steps ahead--I was several steps behind. I thought hard about everything he'd previously told me to do. I recalled the sense of urgency with which he told me to pull the SIM card for the burner phone he bought me, and felt a physical pang. Getting rid of the SIM card would mean getting rid of his only declaration of love for me. With a sigh, I stood and stubbed out my cigarette, taking up my bags and heading towards the skip in the alley opposite me. I pulled the SIM card from my mobile phone and chucked it in amongst the rubbish.

My fingers itched for another cigarette, though I knew it was just for want of something to do. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to think. 'What would Gabe do? What would Gabe do?'

At my feet lay my suitcase of clothes, the three cases of money and my empty guitar case. With a feeling of detachment, I stooped down, opened the guitar case and started emptying the money into it. It was a tight fit, but the clasps were still closeable. I took the empty briefcases and threw those in the skip before thinking better of it, climbing in after them to fish them back out and wipe them free of prints with my coat before chucking them in once more. My load significantly less cumbersome, I took up my suitcase and guitar case and started walking again. I tried not to look too suspicious as a cop car passed me by, it's lights and sirens off. I checked the time on my phone, wondering where I could go after midnight on short notice. I had money for a hotel, but didn't feel comfortable being alone. Jen was out of the question--I couldn't afford to stress her out in her condition. Still gripping my phone in my free hand, my mind alighted on Kat--her new flat.

The walk to Kat's is a blur to me now. I know I looked up the address she sent me, used some map application to navigate my way there. By the time I got there, I was a wreck. I stood at the front door, staring at it's peeling paint and wood grain for some unknowable amount of time. When she opened the door to me, she attempted to hide her concern behind a smile.

"Eli? You're starting to freak the neighbours out," she laughed uneasily. I knew I should say something--reassure her in some way--but everything that came to mind sounded stupid. I pushed past her, walking into the corridor.

"Which one is you?" My voice was deceptively steady, surprising to my own ears. Kat arched a brow at me, the concern on her face growing.

"End of the hall, to the right." She followed wordlessly behind me as I sprinted down the hall, throwing open her unlocked door and barging straight inside. A young man in his early twenties jumped off the sofa in the front room where the television was blaring. He stood a good head taller than me, with a full sleeve of tattoos up his right arm--those facts coupled with the obscenities he was shouting out me would have intimidated me, had I been in my right mind. Instead, I stared blankly at him as Kat explained the situation as best she could. My gaze swept the tiny flat, my legs moving me towards the first door I saw--the bathroom.

I abandoned my luggage to the cool embrace of the tile floor and fell immediately to my knees in front of the toilet bowl. I retched violently, stomach acid and the remnants of Chinese takeaway splattering into the pristine white bowl. My throat burned. I only stopped heaving once my stomach was empty, at which point all my frantic energy from before fled me, and I sagged against the wall opposite the toilet, my head throbbing.

"And how drunk are you, exactly?" Kat, leaning against the open door, asked wearily. Backlit by the light spilling into the hall from the front room, her mass of curls was a fiery halo about her head. I allowed my body to go limp, crawling like a slug until my head laid at her tiny, bare feet.

"I'm not drunk at all," I informed her in a voice barely there, "I'm just an idiot."

"No arguments here, Goose," she sighed, affection evident in her voice. "C'mon, get up." She helped me to my feet as best as she could, and led me to the bedroom, following behind with my bag and guitar case in hand. Kicking the door closed, she dropped her load to the clothes-strewn floor and pushed my hollow frame til I was sitting on the too-soft mattress. "So...what the hell?"

I sighed, reaching for the guitar case. I hoisted it up, settling it between us on the bed. I popped the clasps and pushed open the lid.

"What the hell, Eli?!" Her eyes widened when they fell upon the money in the case. And so I began to explain, as best as I could--as I could hardly understand myself how I'd come to be in such a situation--what had conspired between Gabe and I since Christmas. The PG13 version, at least. She seemed bewildered throughout the first half of my tale, but once I told her of how he shot Eddie after the robbery--and meant to shoot Jack as well--her tiny, plump frame was shaking. She grasped my lapel as I continued on with my account of life on the run, digging through the pocket of my jacket until she'd located my cigarettes, lighting one for both of us, passing me mine with trembling fingers.

When I'd finished, she seemed to draw into herself--her voice soft and nearly emotionless as she rose from the bed, saying simply, "Tea."

She left me wordless and exhausted to stare at a greasy smudge on the far wall of the bedroom, listening to her padding around in the kitchen, mugs clinking on countertops, the scream of the kettle. I heard her mumbling to the young behemoth in the living room, that disgusted way she had of loudly sucking her teeth whenever she found someone's antics ridiculous and childish. She came back into the bedroom a whirling dervish, kicking the door shut, pressing the mug of steaming tea into my hand and sinking back down onto the mattress in what seemed like one fluid motion. She settled at the foot of the bed, legs folded, taking small, careful sips of tea.

"He's been arrested." I blurted it accidentally, watched her choke on a mouthful, spluttering Darjeeling down the front of her Iggy and the Stooges tee. She sat her cup down and rubbed at her temples before her hands made a series of half-considered gestures, reaching for nothing, grasping for anything, finally alighting on my cigarette packet, lighting one up.

"For the robbery?"

"Sort of," And then I had to try to explain the bizarre circumstances of his arrest, the reviewing of the facts making them no clearer to me. The world seemed upside down, there was no reason, nothing made sense.

"Oh, god," Kat breathed, a pucker deep between her brows. All I could think of was how I hadn't spoken to God since before this all began. One of my father's old sermons flooded my mind before I could stop it--his voice strong and sure, bouncing off the cedar rafters of the old church house, reverberating softly like a brood of nesting pigeons cooing to each other. "When you turn your back on God," his voice echoed in my mind, "And shut your mouth and heart to him, Satan--the great tempter--takes this as his cue to enter in the guise of your free will--that voice in the back of your mind."

I sighed heavily, rubbing at my temples. "I didn't know where to go. I haven't paid rent for months, so I doubt I can go back to my flat. And Gabe's flat is out of the question--"

"You can stay here," Kat offered without hesitation, "You can have the bed tonight, but after tomorrow, it's the sofa for you, I'm afraid."

"You don't have to--"

"I know. I want you to. You need looking after."

"Thanks." I spat bitterly, staring down into the depths of my cold tea. The mattress dipped and shook as she climbed off the bed, giving me a kiss at the crown of my head.

"Get some rest, Eli."

And again, I was alone.


	15. 14. Temperance

14\. Temperance

"I tried so hard to fix what I'd ruined. I tried every single day to be what they wanted. I tried all the time to be better but I never really knew how."  
\--Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

 

He's above me, in me, filling me, filling my senses until there's nothing but him. Just him. He is all I need, pushing deeper into me, rougher, pushing all thoughts from my head. There is nothing but pleasure, the fuel for my burning need as his sweat attempts to quench my thirsty tongue. He's fevered above me, manic but determined. My hands attempt to find purchase on slick skin, slipping, slipping. He groans, the noise shaking my bones loose from their joints. His lips part, and he says,

"I love u xx"

His voice not his, robotic--as heavy and inorganic on his tongue as a Lego block.

"I love u xx", he says again.

I beg him, "Say it again. For real. Say it for real. I need to hear you say it. I need...I need..."

Someone shook my shoulder.

"Eli," Kat's soft voice sounded above me. "C'mon, Eli. You've got to meet Jen for lunch, remember? I made coffee."

I came to slowly, feeling first the pounding of my head, then the coldness of my feet, and finally the tightness in my groin. I groaned, rolling my body further away from her.

"I'll be up in a minute. I need a shower." I waited to get out of bed until after I heard her footsteps retreating down the hall. As distressing as my dream was, it was just sensual enough to make me so hard it was painful. Shielding myself with my suitcase, I stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom.

In the dense steam of the shower, I touched myself, my pace quick, efficient. It wasn't enough to soothe the ache inside me, no matter the technique employed. I sighed, head bowed. The head of my erection--dark and swollen--peeked out at me from my fist. Past that, blue and black love bites speckled the insides of my thighs. My cock gave an almighty jump remembering Gabe's dark gaze shooting up my body as he placed the marks there, raising bruises, raising my voice. His fingers worked inside me, pressing and rubbing so perfectly...

I grabbed the bottle of conditioner, breathing through my mouth so I didn't have to inhale the aroma of my sister's hair while I abused myself. I closed my eyes tight and the feel of my slick fingertip was the sensation of the tip of his tongue against my hole, working me open slowly. Images in my head kept flashing and switching--a porno on microfilm. Gabe, the night of the bite-speckled-thighs, pushing into me in one smooth motion, making me cry out, staring me down, his gaze intense. My legs hiked up high around his torso, practically bent in half as he pinned my wrists to the pillow either side of my head.

In the smothering reality of the shower, I moaned too loudly, reaching in a panic for the flannel that'd been laid out for me. I shoved the dry cotton into my mouth, and behind the safety of my eyelids, it transformed into Gabe's hand, stifling my moans. We're in a car park now--a thing that never happened, a fantasy--I'm on my hands and knees on the back seat, my head stuck out the window as Gabe, draped over my back, pounds into me relentlessly, breathing filth and endearments against the sweat-sodden fabric of my shirt, his hand clamped to my mouth to keep me quiet--fingers slipping past my lips and I suck them in, tongue swirling, delving between.

'I love you,' I heard him say in my head. But the tone was off, and so I replayed bits of conversation and dirty talk in my head until his voice was fixed so solidly in my mind you could reach in with tweezers and pluck it from my ear--and then again, I heard him saying 'I love you', but clearer now, more Gabe-like, and I bit down hard on the flannel as I came with a violent shudder, splattering bathroom tiling.

 

******************

Ten minutes later, I emerged from the shower clean and full of shame. I shivered in the cool air, the towel around my waist not enough to fend off the chill. I unzipped my suitcase, pulling out a pair of pants, my fingers brushing plastic. Confused, I pulled out the offending item--a large freezer bag containing Gabe's gun, a bottle of pills, some bullets, three joints and an acid green Post-It. I flipped the bag in my hands, reading the note:

This is not the end. Take care of yourself. Be smart.

Always,

Gabe xx

"Oh my god," I breathed into the dissipating steam of the bathroom. "He planned this."

 

******************

Jen's nail varnish was chipped. I noticed as she lightly drummed her fingers against her glass of water--twist of lemon. Our meeting was short, we barely spoke. It felt awkward, like a bad dream. I recalled that conversation Gabe and I had in his bathroom, about how Jen more than likely didn't recognize me anymore. How she never really knew me.

I realized belatedly that I never really knew myself.

Could I be the man she needed? The father our child would need? Did I have it in me? I didn't really know.

But I reached across the table slowly, and when she didn't pull away, I took her hand in mine.

"It'll be alright, Jenny," I said.

I hoped saying it out loud would make it the truth.

 

******************

An odd thing happened after that lunch with Jen.

I came back to Kat's, hollowed out like a Halloween pumpkin, fell onto her sofa and into a dark, dreamless sleep. When I woke just before dawn, the fear was still there, but muted, like music heard underwater. I brewed coffee, drank it in the worn armchair as I smoked the day's first cigarette, watching the sun rise over a burnt-out old warehouse across the street. Everything in me quiet, cold and still--a winter landscape of freshly fallen snow. I still felt the pain of losing Gabe, the nervous excitement of becoming a father, the fear of things to come, but these things seemed far off--animals at the zoo, trapped behind glass. I could see them, but they couldn't touch me.

At eight, Kat stumbled out of her room in an out-sized KISS shirt, her hair a mess. She rubbed at her eyes, regarding me with a confused scowl. "What are you doing, Goose?" The mornings are not a good time for her, never have been, and when she speaks she sounds like a tot on the verge of a tantrum, her voice small and whiny.

"Drinking coffee." My voice was not my own. I'd stolen it from a much more capable man--a man who knew what he was doing, where he was going. I brought my mug up to my lips, took a slurping sip. "See?"

"Arse," she muttered, padding into the kitchen to pour a cup for herself. I watched as she dumped what seemed like half the sugar bowl in, stirred in a cow's worth of cream. She snatched my cigarettes from me before throwing herself down on the sofa, kicking my blanket out of the way. "How's Jen? Meant to ask yesterday."

"She's fine. Very excited. Wants to have a home birth. She seemed to think I'd fight her over that, for some reason. Told her I'd help her research midwives, so I might need to borrow your laptop later, if that's alright."

"Sure..." Kat squinted at me over the brim of her mug, brow arched. "And how are you?"

"I'm fine. Very excited. I've always wanted to be a father. Are you going to smoke my cigarettes or just keep them clutched in your talons? Because I want one. Of my cigarettes. I don't think that's asking for much."

She lit herself a cigarette and pushed the packet towards me across the scuffed top of the coffee table. "Question: Where's my real brother? What'd you do with him?"

"That's two questions." I lit my own cigarette, kept the packet on the table between us for her convenience.

"Seriously, should I be worried?"

"Three questions."

"Scary fucker," Kat muttered beneath her breath, leaning back into the sofa, shading her eyes with her palm.

I didn't want to tell her, but I was pretty sure Gabe killed the old Eli when he got himself arrested.

 

*******************

Three months.

Gabe was gone three months. Still, I always seemed to know what was going on with him. The coverage on the case was incredible. Not once had I considered how the robbery would have seemed to those not involved in it. The public lapped it up like a kitten with cream. I couldn't turn on the news without hearing about it.

The first time was incredibly disorienting. I'd turned the TV on in search of something mindless, and there was Gabe, looking so scared and small. He was handcuffed, being led into the courthouse. Two people--his parents, I found out later--trailed behind. His mother was beautiful, and from her I could see Gabe had inherited his high forehead and his nose, though hers was much more straight and narrow. It made me wonder if he'd ever had his nose broken. And her blue eyes--not bare, but wearing the kind of makeup designed to appear as bare skin--framed in long, fluttering lashes...My breath caught. She was mid-height and thin, and devastatingly elegant in her navy blue Chanel suit and pearls, her hair in a polished bun. His father--a broad man, slightly balding with a paunch, a bit ruddy in the cheeks--had the effortlessly assured way of moving only afforded to those with serious money. He looked nothing like Gabe. He also appeared to be at least ten years older than Gabe's mother, which was something I found myself unprepared for.

I panicked, shutting off the TV and tossing the remote away from me.

Later, I told all this to Kat as she ate cereal at the small kitchen table, hunched over her bowl and regarding me with bleary eyes. She'd only just woken up at noon, her mood agitated. I expressed my desire to know what was going on with him, and my equal desire to not know--to not watch it unfold before me. And so she took it upon herself to watch the news, reporting back to me at every new development.

On March 6, Kat cornered me on the way to the bathroom.

"Your boyfriend is a fucking genius," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Could you move? I need a piss."

She allowed me to push past her into the bathroom, but continued to speak to me through the closed door. She reminded me of the circumstances of Gabe's arrest, how he'd acted so unlike himself at the off-license. She told me how once he'd been arrested, he waited an appropriate amount of time before acting like an addict going through withdrawals. How he claimed three men approached him one evening, asking if he'd drive them somewhere. How he'd been tricked into participating with an offer of drugs.

"Do you think it'll work?" I shouted over the sound of the toilet flushing.

"Only time will tell."

I washed my hands and went to the kitchen, digging through every drawer until I found an old receipt to use as scrap paper. I wrote down the information Kat told me and tucked the scrap into my suitcase.

That's how I began journaling.

*****************

It began as a way to keep track of Gabe. Of the lies he told the cops and the court. Of how long I'd have to wait before I'd see him again. I researched sentencing related to offenders who are also addicts, trying to predict how much time he might get. All of this, I wrote down in a spiral notebook Kat bought me. He waited in jail for a month and a half before his court date. I researched what prison life is like, if he'd be able to have his daily cup of coffee, cigarettes. His acting and his parent's money convinced the judge to sentence him to a stint in rehab. After that, community service and mandatory therapy. I'd have roughly two more months to wait for him. Then I could see him again. We'd be together again.

All of this I wrote down. But once Gabe was sentenced, I had nothing left to write. Jotting down these things kept my feelings about them more or less at bay. Without anything to write down, I was left only with my feelings. I tried to write these down, but it felt strange. Who was I writing to? Me? The journal itself? God? All of these things seemed senseless.

And so I started writing to Gabe. It was raw, uncensored--the most truthful I'd ever been in my life. This carried on for weeks before I left Kat's flat in search of a journal fit for the task. I came back four hours later with something I thought Gabe would appreciate: a medium-sized journal soft bound in supple black leather, its recycled pages heavy and coloured cream. I carefully transcribed all I'd written for him from the notebook into the journal, my penmanship deliberate, spelling impeccable. I wondered if I would give it to him, and then I wondered when I would give it to him.

I tried to envision his reaction to my heart spilled across the pages.

I was angry and I was lost. I wasn't sure if he had ever told me the truth, and I decided in his absence that was all I wanted--the truth. No more lies. No more omissions. The truth, cold, hard and brutal. The truth, warmed by freshly spilt blood. I would write the truth and I'd rub his flat fucking nose in it. I would write my truth and demand his. I would hold him close and even in my anger I would make him promise to never leave me again. I wanted him to see what he'd made of me--a desperate, insatiable fool.

13 March, 2014

I sleep on Kat's sofa and search for you in my dreams. I find you in a tiny concrete cell. I touch your cheek, your thighs, your hair, your cock, your eyelids. I wake up painfully hard and touch myself in the shower, quick and rough, fingernails scraping my thighs, my stomach. I come into the empty air and am alone. I hate you for leaving me, but I want you back desperately.

You didn't have to do this. You martyr-idiot.

I read the words back and they all sounded like the ravings of a madman. Still, I carried on--this writing my only outlet since Gabe's arrest.

20 April, 2014

I dreamt you were a rock on the shore and I was the ocean. I beat against you in relentless waves and finally you broke down, into a million pieces of rubble, tiny stones, pebbles. I felt you plummeting through my depths, drowning in my belly, where you settled in the mouths of oysters, irritating them until years later these pieces of you were pulled from my depths in the form of pearls.

You always did know how to turn pain into something beautiful.

 

Some of them were incredibly short, but to the point.

 

24 April, 2014

I love you.  
I hate you.  
I miss you.  
I need you.  
Come home.

A lot of them were just plain embarrassing.

30 April, 2014

I don't know how you convinced me. To rob a bank. To put your cock up my arse. To let you bite me, scratch me, pinch me, slap me, and call it love. To let you be in charge, of the plans, my head, my heart, my cock.

I don't know how you convinced me. But there's no going back now.

 

2 May, 2014

I miss you.

I miss the way you'd stir your morning's first cup of coffee, standing at the kitchen sink, stirring in two spoons of sugar, cream. So I stand at the kitchen sink, stirring two spoons of sugar into my morning's first cup of coffee, cream.

I miss you.

I miss your arm draped over my waist, your chest pressed into my back as you sleep. So I press my back into the cushions of Kat's sofa, bunch the blanket up around my waist, missing the weight of flesh.

I miss you.

I miss your fingers, slick, twisting inside of me. Promises disguised as threats. Threats disguised as promises. So I replay them in my mind--your voice on loop--and wait for the house to be empty, three fingers knuckle deep inside of me, twisting, pushing, stroking until I come with your name smeared across my lips.

I miss you.

I miss the taste of you.

Sadly, there is nothing that comes close to it.

 

8 May, 2014

Jen asked me today if I'm gay. I could tell she had been wanting to ask me for some time now.

I told her I didn't know.

Truth is, I don't care.

All I know is I want you.

Desperately.

Always.

Desperately.

 

*****************

"The DNA wasn't his!" Kat whispers at me, eyes wide.

It was 2 April. I was sitting at the kitchen table, chain smoking as I scribbled in my journal. She slid into the seat across from me, leaning in, and hissed the news again.

"The DNA wasn't his! On that rag they found? Not. His!"

I looked up. She seemed slightly panicked, eyes wide, face pallid. I looked back down, continuing to write.

"Okay."

"Okay?! How is this okay?! Whose DNA was it then?" When I didn't answer, she repeated my name several times, finally settling for just banging her fist against my journal until I looked back up at her.

"It's not mine." I said, moving her small fist out of the way.

"Oh," she breathed, and then, "Are you sure?"

I was. The only time we had sex in the car, Gabe swallowed. Wiped his own release on the rag. But the DNA wasn't his. They tested it and it wasn't his.

"Positive."

"Oh."

We sat there in silence, both of us contemplating the question neither one of us wanted to ask.

If the semen wasn't mine and it wasn't Gabe's, then whose was it?

 

********************

I slept restlessly that night. I dreamt of Gabe, in his car, fucking the breath out of some faceless stranger. I woke with a start, angry and hard. Pushing the blanket off me, I sat up and checked the time. 3 a.m. Standing with a sigh, I pulled on my coat and stepped out into the night. I found myself ducking into an alley near Kat's flat, my cock still heavy in my pyjama bottoms. It was freezing out. Leaning up against the wall, back to bricks, I pushed my hand into my pants, stroking hard and fast. Pinching and twisting my nipples. My breath left me in hard pants, puffs of steam rising in the cold air. I brought my palm up to my lips, spat, stroked faster.

Gabe's flat stomach, dense trail of hair from navel to groin. His cock jutting out, hard and dark and leaking, between flaps of denim. Short nails varnished black digging into skin. His teeth nipping flesh. Eyes dark, intense. I imagine him in flashes, find his voice in my head, hear him saying, "Look at you. Dreamt of me fucking someone else and you're still craving my cock. Touching yourself in public. You wanna get caught, don't you? Just the idea gives you a little thrill, don't it? Naughty. Naughty boy. I ought to bend you over those bins and spank you til your arse is black and blue. Like your thighs. If I were there I'd smack you til your arse was on fire, then shove my cock into you hard and fast. Til you're a sobbing heap. That's what you need right now, ain't it? An excuse to break down. You wouldn't be able to sit right for weeks--"

I came in my pants with a violent shudder, a long groan. Bringing my hand back up to my mouth, I sucked my release off my fingers, just as Gabe would have instructed, were he there. I smoked a cigarette, waiting for my nerves to calm and went back inside. In the dim light of the kitchen, I wrote down what I'd just done.

I thought Gabe would appreciate it.

 

**************

It was the first of May. I was walking back to Kat's from another lunch with Jen. Jan was there, and shot daggers at me the entire time. I remained cordial, but largely ignored her. Still, it went fairly well. Jen and I discussed the pros and cons of water birth--one of the things I had researched at her behest. I also brought up the idea of having a midwife who was also a registered nurse, so if anything went wrong during the delivery process, the midwife/nurse would be licensed to handle it. It was a tip I'd read on one of the numerous Mummy blogs I'd found online. Jan seemed impressed by this suggestion, but attempted to hide it.

I was feeling smug. All and all it was a good day. I ducked into a small bakery and bought myself a small pink box of tiny cakes and tarts, eating them as I walked. I contemplated whether or not to write in my journal about the day I had, wondering if Gabe would care about the intricacies of planning a homebirth. Remembering my new no lies, no omissions edict, I decided I would write about it. The information would be there for him if he cared to know.

Turning the corner, about five minutes away from my old flat, I saw Jack. He was buying a bacon butty from the shop we used to frequent after card games. I froze. Dropped my box of baked goods. I felt cold all over.

And then I ran.


	16. 15. The Devil

15\. The Devil

"If I cannot bend Heaven, I shall move Hell."  
Book VII, line 312 of the Aeneid by Virgil

 

I ran.

I ran until my thighs were sore, paying no mind to where I was going, and when I couldn't run anymore, I walked. I kept walking and I didn't stop until I came to what ended up being my destination--Gabe's flat. Like a lost dog, I'd found my way home. I still had his key on my keyring, which was thankfully in my pocket. His front door was still covered in police tape. It had been three months. Surely the investigators wouldn't be back. I hesitated for only a moment before turning the key in the lock, pushing my way through the door.

I tried the light and surprisingly, it turned on. Gabe would have been gutted to find the flat as it was when I first walked in. They'd torn everything apart, no doubt looking for the stolen money. Tables and chairs overturned, drawers pulled open, papers spilled everywhere. I stood in the middle of the destruction, completely at a loss. The police investigators had left nothing untouched. Living room, kitchen, dining room. The master bedroom a wreck--I saw as I passed its open door. I pushed deeper into the house, down the corridor, and that's when I saw.

The door to Gabe's locked room had been kicked down, the wood around the hinges splintered. I was confused for a moment, but then it made sense. Of course it seemed logical that he'd hide the money behind a locked door. When the confusion passed, I felt torn. Should I...could I...?

I inched forward. The light from the main rooms of the house didn't reach past the door frame. I couldn't 'accidentally' see into the room. With a sigh, I flipped the light switch. The room was just as big a mess as the rest of the house and it took my mind a moment to make sense of the jumble--fitting everything together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was a home studio. An art studio. An easel, canvases, paints. Charcoals, watercolors, pastels, sketchbooks. I thought of moments, half awake, turning over in my sleep to find Gabe absent, or Gabe turned from me, smelling foreign, smelling of chemicals, of turpentine.

I stepped into the room, my boot brushing a sketch. I picked it up and looked. In swooping lines of oil pastel--dark blue, indigo, deep purples, highlights of lavender--was my face in profile. He'd only begun to fill in the background--the golden foil some sweets come wrapped in, adhered to the thick, textured paper flanking my face. Touched, I blinked back tears. It was my nose exactly. My lips slightly parted, framed by my stubble. My eye, the lid heavy. My brow, slightly furrowed. I realized this must be me in a more intimate moment, and blushed.

I set the paper down gingerly on a low table off to the side and forged on, looking at everything, all hesitancy lost. More drawings. My and Gabe's hands--our faux wedding rings intact, fingers entwined--in shades of yellow, orange and red. A charcoal sketch of me, sitting on Gabe's sofa, playing my Dreadnought--something that never actually happened. A whole page smeared in charcoal, consisting of nothing but my smile--just my mouth, my teeth, my stubble, taking up a whole page to itself. Another like it of my cock.

The deeper I went into the room, the less the images made sense. Before long, there weren’t any sketches of me; there were just pages drawn solely in charcoal, punctuated by red ink. Angry slashes of colour cutting into the void. Pages and pages of these. Past those, more images, less abstract. A boy of about four, all eyes and blond fringe, in the corner of a featureless room. He's wearing just his pants and one sock, and he's crying. A drawing of a concrete floor, a broken strand of pearls coiled like a dead snake, a few droplets of blood. One of empty liquor bottles in red light. Another of a syringe next to a tube of lipstick. One of a tatty blue stuffed elephant, part of its ear chewed off, streaks of dirt and blood across its chest.

The images didn't make sense to me on an intellectual level, but emotionally, they felt like a punch to the gut. I dropped the sketches i was holding and spun on my heel, wanting to be out of that room immediately. I caught my breath in the hall. Those sketches...were they memories? I couldn't piece them together with the image of his parents as I had seen them on TV.

Confused and hollow, I stumbled down the hall and into the master bedroom. I pulled off my jacket, my boots, socks, jeans. I pushed debris off the bed and climbed in, pulling the duvet over me. The sheets, the pillows, they all still smelled vaguely of him. I breathed him in, pressed my face deeper into the cotton, breathed again, deeper. I fell into a restless sleep, dreamed I was in rehab, like Gabe, only I was going through real withdrawals. My skin burned and itched, felt tight across my bones. I was caving, craving. I spent my days in group therapy, talking to strangers about my feelings. Making stupid crafts to occupy my hands, my time. At night I dreamt of getting my fix. Of feeling full and tight. Of tasting sweat. Of taking whatever he felt fit to give.

 

******************

I awoke early the next morning, putting coffee on to brew as I walked to the bathroom. In the shower, I scrubbed myself raw with Gabe's body wash, emerged smelling of him. His shampoo, deodorant, cologne. I threw my clothes in the wash, drank my coffee naked, standing in the kitchen, air-drying at the sink. I started tidying up, washing dishes, drying them, putting them away. I took a fresh bin bag from under the sink and cleaned out the fridge. I cleaned the dining area, then the living room, putting papers in straight stacks, placing them away in drawers. I picked up brass and jade statues of elephants, monkeys, leopards. The ones still intact I placed randomly on any flat surface available. The broken ones I put in Gabe's favorite armchair, resolving to go out and buy glue to fix them later.

The washing machine dinged merrily. I threw my clothes into the dryer and moved on to the guest room. Made the bed, swept, righted furniture, placed bric-a-brac. I straightened the art prints hanging along the walls of the hallway. Scrubbed the bathrooms.

It was dinner time once I'd finished. Donning my clothes--warm, clean, smelling of Gabe--I went out. Did a small grocery shop. Bought glue. Came back home. My clothes felt too restricting and I shed them, throwing them over the back of the sofa. I sat at the dining table, eating frozen lasagna as I glued the trunk back onto a jade elephant. By six p.m. I was exhausted.

I fell into Gabe's bed and resolved to clean his studio and the bedroom first thing in the morning.

 

**************

I started with the studio, figuring it would be the hardest. I had no idea where anything was supposed to go. It felt wrong, somehow, to be cleaning this room naked, and so I pulled on my pants and got to work. I looked for dates on every piece of art, put them in neat, chronological stacks. There was a long, black desk on the far side of the room, and I tidied that too. Lining up tubes of paint, palettes, spilled brushes place in an empty jar that once used to hold pickles. Oil pastels back in their tin, off to the side. Felt tip pens in a coffee mug stating "Funk as Puck". In the middle of the desk, I placed a sketch pad, opened to a fresh new page. I swept the floor.

I took my pants off on my walk back to the master bedroom, chucking them at the sofa with the rest of my clothes. The bed was calling my name, and so I collapsed into it, taking a nap. I woke up two hours later, feeling groggy. I brewed coffee, put on my clothes. Drank the coffee, washed windows. I went back to Kat's, found it empty, took my clothes and guitar case, but left her a hefty wad of cash.

On the way back to Gabe's, I bought floor wax. Disrobed, swept again, waxed the floor of the main house, leaving it to dry while I cleaned the bedroom. I started with the closet, lining his shoes up along the floor, hanging clothes, organizing them by color. The clothes on the floor I put in a big pile, gathered them up, threw them in the wash. I dusted the top of his dresser, collected jewellery scattered around the room, organized it on the top of the dresser--rings, necklaces, bracelets, cuffs. I didn't find his wedding ring, but I found mine. Put it on. I collected hair pins--the curve of each one a mirror of the bow of his lips--and placed them in a small teacup.

Under the bed, I found a box. Inside were all sorts of toys--handcuffs, dildos, vibrators. Things I didn't understand then, but know now to be anal beads, nipple clamps, vibrating eggs. One of the dildos--a shade of pink bright enough to cause a headache if viewed too long--was roughly the same length and girth as Gabe's cock. Egotist. Still, my cock twitched. I sighed, giving in as I always do.

There was a suction cup on its base. I stuck it to the floor in the middle of the room. I realized I had no idea how to clean a dildo, and dug through Gabe's bedside drawer for a condom. Lube. I stretched myself, the angle awkward as always. I rolled the condom onto the dildo, closed my eyes, stroking it. Close, but not the same. It wasn't as hot as Gabe's cock, didn't pulse, jump at my touch.

I lined it up, sunk down fast, taking it all at once. My breath caught and I paused, scratching and pinching the insides of my thighs, imagining his teeth. Fingertips glancing up my shaft, stroking over my torso. I spat on my fingers, brought them down to my nipples, pinching and twisting, imagining his mouth. I started rocking, bracing my hands on the floor, remembering Gabe's face that night, the first time I rode his cock. How he watched me, delighted, elated, pushing up into me.

I began bouncing. Hard. Desperate. Rolling my hips, stroking my cock. Hard. Desperate. So much better than my fingers. Not near as good as Gabe. Caught somewhere in the middle, the head of the silicone cock brushing that spot again, again. I imagined him speaking to me again, getting closer, "--slut. S'never enough, always more. Take it. Take it all. That's it, darlin', that's it. Mmm, yeah, Eli. Love the way you ride my cock. Hard and fast, like you can't stand to not have it all inside you at once. Fuck, you're so tight. Mmm, Christ, yes. Eli. Elias. Fuck. Come for me."

And I did, streaking up my stomach, my chest, body shaking. Trembling, keeping my eyes closed, I jerked the dildo out of me roughly. Tore the condom off and turned around, plunging my mouth down, taking as much of it in as I could before I gagged. Pulled back, breathed, plunged again, sucking. It wasn't the same. I pulled off with a pop, chucking the dildo back into the box, which I kicked back under the boxspring.

I climbed into bed, feeling emptier than I did before.

In the morning, I would write to Gabe and tell him of my first experience with an 'apparatus'.

I thought he would appreciate it.

 

****************

The next morning, I stayed naked despite now having access to all my clothes. I found I liked walking around in the nude. Another thing I never knew about myself. I brewed coffee, pulled the duvet off the bed and sat underneath it on the sofa, watched whatever documentaries I could find on TV. I wrote down my encounter I had in the bedroom the night before for Gabe, leaving out not a single detail.

Michael called, screaming at me. I couldn't find it in myself to be scared--that whole situation felt too far removed from me at that point--but I told him I'd be over the next day to give him his money. I was just tired of all the running. For once, I just wanted to stand still. He laughed as he hung up. I felt nothing.

I dozed like a cat in a sunny windowsill. Woke up. Wrote to Gabe again.

4 June, 2014

Just woke up. Dreamt I prayed to God and he sent you to me--the angel Gabriel, angel of of Annunciation. He sent you and demanded you tell me the truth. All of it. And when you were done, God plucked one of your wings from your back and gave it to me. He sewed us together, our hearts and wings beating in unison. And you never left again.

I miss you so much it's clearly making me go insane.

I read it back to myself and had the sudden urge to tear the page out. Rip it up. For some reason, it seemed much more revealing the any of the previous entries I wrote. I left the page intact, sticking to my new philosophy of truth. For better or worse.

The living room grew darker, though I refused to turn on any lights. I made my mind up to have a piss and go straight back to bed.

I was standing at the toilet when my prayer was answered.

 

************

I heard the front door knob jiggling, turning. I froze in place, flaccid cock still in hand. The door opened, closed, and then I heard him. I heard him mutter, "What the fuck?", and then, louder, disbelieving, "Eli?"

I couldn't stop myself.

I ran to him.

He stood in the doorway, nearly a stone lighter than when I first met him. He was all hollow sockets and sunken cheeks. Dark circles held his weary eyes aloft. His lips were chapped. He was dressed head to toe in light grey sweats, old trainers on his feet. Oh, but how his eyes lit up when he saw me. He took me in slowly, as though he couldn't quite believe his eyes. He took a step toward me, hands up, nearly touching me. "This is a dream, right?" he breathed.

"Not sure," I answered honestly.

"How long you been here?"

"Three, maybe four days."

He cupped my face, his other hand buried in the curls at my nape. "Get dressed, we gotta leave." He broke off from me, took my clothes off the sofa and thrust them into my hands before heading off to the bedroom. I followed close behind, stumbling as I pulled on my boxer briefs.

"What? Why?"

"Jack's out front. Saw him sleeping in his car. C'mon, we gotta go."

"What?!"

"Hurry!"

He packed my bags as I dressed, checked the guitar case and saw the money. "Nice," he complemented, buckling it closed.

"Thanks."

And just like that, I was being pushed out the door.

*****************

"I knew Michael would still be after you, and I figured Jack would be as well," Gabe explained as he drove. I didn't recognize the car. "But I had to wait for the right moment. There was no way I could escape from jail, so I had to wait to be put in rehab. Easy as anything to do a runner there."

"Michael called today. I told him I'd drop the money off tomorrow." I watched the streetlights rapidly passing over his profile as he steered us deeper into the night.

"Good. Works out."

"Where'd you get the car?"

"Hotwired it." The truth, from what I could tell.

"You're coming with me, then?"

"Where?" He pulled us into the carpark of a Holiday Inn.

"To Michael's. Tomorrow."

"Don't be an idiot. 'Course I am."

My heart sped up. He's killed for me. And he'd be willing to die for me. Die with me--side by side.

And with this thought, the panic began to return.

 

*****************

The panic was back in full force, and I found it difficult to pull enough air into my lungs. I tried to hide it from Gabe as he followed me into the cheap motel room, but it was crowding me out of my skin; there wasn't enough room in my body for both conscious thought and this dread, and I found myself pulling in great draughts of air as soon as the door shut behind us. I felt Gabe's steady hands guiding me into a sitting position at the foot of the bed, kicking my feet apart and forcing my head down towards my own lap.

"C'mon," he said softly, but sternly. "Head between your knees. Breathe deep. C'mon, Eli, breathe. That's it. Nice and slow. In through your nose, atta boy."

I knew I should get a grip on myself, that this was a terrible time to give into the fear I’d felt subliminally since Gabe left, but it was out of my control--that moment the first in three months where I felt safe enough to fall apart, trusting in the knowledge that if I broke into pieces, Gabe would know exactly how to deal with it, how to collect each piece of me and patch them all back together. My breathing became a bit more controlled, but I was still terrified, gripping at Gabriel's hips painfully hard--bones slipping beneath skin as I brought my head up to rest against Gabe's stomach, wrapping my arms around him and clinging tight.

"I can't do this," I gasped out, pressing my face hard into Gabe's torso.

"Yes you can, Eli." His fingers combed through my hair, the pressure against my scalp comforting and familiar, but not nearly enough to calm me.

"No, I can't. I can't go face Michael tomorrow, I can't give Jen what she wants, I'll be a horribly inept father, I'm a terrible son, I have no idea what I'm doing with you--nothing is alright, Gabe. I don't know..." I broke off, choking back something dangerously close to a sob. Strong hands gripped my wrists, wrenching my hands off Gabe's body and there was a blur of colours as Gabe dropped down onto his knees between my legs, fixing me with a heavy gaze.

"Shut up, Eli." His voice was low, dangerous, his face paler than usual. "Just shut up. None of that's true, d'ya hear me? You're the strongest person I know--not just anybody could live through what you have in such a short amount of time and just now start to freak out." His hands grasped the sides of my face suddenly, fingertips digging into my nape almost painfully, and it struck me that Gabe was just as scared as I was--only better at hiding it. "We're gonna go to Michael's tomorrow, we're gonna give him his money, and that'll be the end of that."

It was obvious he knew that last bit was a lie--that most certainly wouldn't be the end of it, not unless our little meeting ended with a bullet in somebody's head. My hands came up, gripping Gabe's forearms as I tilted my face towards his, bringing our lips together, hard and desperate. "Promise?" I whispered into his mouth.

"Promise," he breathed back, his hands sliding down to clutch at my shirt, "And after that, you're gonna go have lunch with Jen or something, and be a good man and do what you have to--what you want to. 'Coz I know you really do wanna be there for her--that someone like you can't just stop loving someone when things don't work out. And fuck worrying about being a father--no one knows how to be a parent anyway, they're all just guessing at it and hoping for the best. And I know you're gonna be the best father you can be and that you're...fuckin' hell. You're...don't worry about it, 'coz you'll be amazing, okay? Trust me."

I was being pushed down against the mattress--found my hands coming up to hold onto Gabriel tightly as his body covered me, heavy and warm and comforting like one of Mum's old quilts. "You're great when you're just you," Gabe was saying, pressing the words into my skin with his lips. "But you're even better when you just let go and stop worrying. So just stop worrying, Eli. Trust me," he urged, "and stop talking."

Gabe sat up, straddling my lap, and peeled his shirt up over his head, his ribs exposed as his skin pulled tightly over them. I brought my hands up, stroking up his stomach, his chest, pulling him down by the back of his neck for another kiss, messy and heated--demanding everything, all of it, anything, right now. "C'mon, c'mon," I heard Gabe pleading under his breath. I pushed at him to back off until I could sit up, divesting myself of my shirt, fingers trembling as I threaded my buttons through. Gabe lifted the hem of my undershirt until it, too joined the growing pile on the floor.

There was a rushed and awkward scramble to get undressed and move farther up the bed, panting harshly on my back while Gabe dug around in his bag, looking manically triumphant when he found a half-used bottle of lube, fuzzy with lint and shed hair. Even with the hurried pace, Gabe found the time to mouth his way up my body, his path starting at the delicate patch of skin behind my balls and ending at my lips, parting them deftly with his tongue as he slid a slick finger across my entrance. I broke the kiss, head pressing back into the musty pillow as I canted my hips with a whine.

"P-please," I breathed shakily, hands moving once more to hold onto Gabe's forearms, "Please, I don't...I need you. Now. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

"Christ, Eli," Gabe sighed, pushing his digit deeper into me, "I won't. Waited too long. Missed you so much." He stroked into me, hand shaking as he tried to keep a slower pace, not wanting to rush it and hurt me, but I was having none of it, pushing myself down onto his finger desperately.

"Please, just...another." My face felt like it would burst into flames at any moment, I was so embarrassed by my own begging. It shouldn't have mattered, not then, not after so long apart, not when tomorrow offered no guarantee we'd see another day, but it did still, somehow, and I had to swallow it back to say, "More, just...forget this--I don't care if it hurts--make it hurt. I wanna remember this tomorrow--I wanna remember, I want...I want you, just...please, Gabe, come on, hurry."

Gabe moaned, pulling back to coat himself generously with lube, sucking air in through clenched teeth when the cool gel hit his skin. He brought his body down against mine, lining up. "S'gonna hurt, Eli." His voice barely made it past the lip he was gnawing on, brow furrowed in concern. He pushed, and nothing happened. He grasped my hips, pushing a bit harder and the tight ring of muscle nearly gave.

"Please," I choked out, rocking my hips. "Please, I want this--you, just...please."

Gabe swallowed audibly and pushed in again--entering me this time. I made a strangled noise, the stretch and burn nearly unbearable, the muscles of my legs twitching as I dragged air into my lungs with loud gasps, trying to relax as Gabe continued to push steadily in.

"Want me to stop?" Gabe's fingertips were digging into me like he was trying to punch holes into my skin, giving me something else to focus on.

"No, no," I groaned, hands moving from Gabe's forearms to his shoulders. "D--don't stop."

"Fuck," Gabe breathed shakily, finally fully engulfed. He brought our bodies tight together, head dropping forward against my chest, and I could hear Gabe grinding his teeth, all other motion having stopped for a moment. There was a pause where the two of us just breathed, attempting to concentrate on anything other than the feel of sweat-slicked skin moving together with every breath, the point where we were joined, the feelings welling up in both of us. And then I shifted my hips and that's all we needed, Gabe pulling back slowly. He stopped abruptly, looking into my eyes. "How bad you wanna hurt?"

The question was husky, full of promises that were nearly threats, and it made my cock twitch against our skin where it was pressed firmly between us. I didn't know quite how to answer the question, I just knew whatever it was Gabe was thinking of doing, I wanted it more than anything in the world. I hooked my ankles together, just above Gabe's arse, and said, "Do it."

Gabe thrusted into me hard and fast, drawing loud groans from both of us. As he pulled back, I moved my legs up higher around him, and when he thrusted again, he was closer to that spot inside of me, the sensation a teasing itch deep inside that made me dig my nails into Gabe's back. "Almost?", Gabe asked, and when I nodded, he brought our bodies closer together, pulled hard at my hips, and it was nearly perfect but not quite enough.

"Did--did you mean it? Your text?" I heard myself asking, my voice high and reedy.

"I said no talking," Gabe groaned against me, tilting his face to suck at my neck with a chuckle. "You've no love bites--it looks funny. You should always have love bites."

"Do it, then," I moaned between thrusts. "Mark me." I heard my moan echoed back to me as Gabe sucked my flesh between his lips and bit down. He repeated the process, raising bruises in a neat little line from neck to shoulder.

"Mine," he growled against my ear.

"Yes." My hand slipped down my body, fisting my heavy dick. "Yours."

"Missed you so much," Gabe rambled, a surefire sign he's getting closer. "Not just this--everything. Waking up next to you each mornin'. That noise you make when you're tryin' not to laugh at somethin'. Fuckin' annoying way you slurp your coffee--”

"I don't slurp my coffee," I panted, fist speeding up on my shaft.

"You do. And it's fuckin' annoying." Gabe's laughter was choked, his breath hitching as rolled his hips into me. "Could barely sleep, without you next to me. I...fuck, Eli. Come. Come for me. Need to see you." His hand joined mine on my shaft, pulling, stroking. Something snapped inside of me, our fingers weaving together, and my back bowed, my body tensing as I came hard, seeping between locked knuckles.

Gabe went deadly still, brow furrowed and jaw clenched, squeezing his eyes shut as I laid gasping against the sheets. I started to speak, but Gabe shushed me. After a moment, he began to move--pushing my legs up til my knees were almost pressed into my chest, grasping my ankles to bring them to his shoulders. He held on tight to my legs as he began thrusting again, this time the angle perfect, rubbing against that spot inside me. I shuddered. I didn't know, I had no clue. We'd never done this before--not like this. Before, whenever I came first--which was always--he'd not thrust as deep, or he'd finish soon after me, or come on my stomach, my chest, my face, mouth. I didn't know it'd still feel good--the pleasure kind of muted, slightly further away from me.

I cried out, Gabe biting and sucking at my calf. "Christ, I missed you so much," I found myself gasping. My cock twitched, still too spent to do much else. "I wrote to you every day."

"I didn't get them," he grunted back, face redder than I'd ever seen it. "Your letters. They didn't come in the post."

"Didn't send them. Wrote them in a journal."

"What 'bout?"

"Everything," I gasped again. I felt as though I were climbing uphill, very similar to the climb toward orgasm. "I wrote about everything. Kat, Jen. My fears. Desires. Dreams. Oh! Mmm. Dreamt of you nearly every night. Wanted you. So badly it hurt. Jesus, what are you doing to me?"

"Don't fight it."

"I never do." I pressed my head back into the pillow, getting closer. To what, I was unsure. If I didn't know any better, I would have said another orgasm. Unthinkable. Wasn't possible. Again I gasped, "What are you doing to me?"

"Only what you need," he replied, eyes closed, face tipped up toward the ceiling, "S'all I've ever done."

"I found your sex toys," I confessed, delirious. It felt so good to have him back inside of me. "Used one."

"Christ, Eli.” Something that would have been a laugh, if the situation were different. "Which one?"

"Pink. Bright pink. Closest to your size. Rode it. Hard. Thought of you."

"Fucking hell, Eli, what are you doing to me?" Gabe beamed, mocking affectionately, fingers digging harder into my legs.

"Need me." I was shaking, I felt close, so close, but it didn't seem possible, there was no way--"Need me like I need you. Please. Want me. Just me. Always. I don't...I can't--" And then I was coming again, but not really. It only felt as though I were. My throat swelled with a silent scream as my body tensed and I had my first dry orgasm. Gabe came inside of me before I'd finished, the sensation only adding to the experience. My name was on his lips. I wanted to taste it.

I sagged back against the mattress, Gabe collapsing on top of me, nose pressed against my new love bites, stinging. I held him close, damp skin against damp skin. I breathed him in.

"What makes you think I don't?" he muttered after a moment, barely audible. Before I could respond, he tipped his head up to look at me with a sly grin and said, "That, by the way, was my best."

I pinched his side hard and he laughed, kissing me, laughter spilling down my throat, filling me. Soon there wasn't any more room left for it, and the sound started coming out of me as well. Manic. The laughter of the condemned.

Tomorrow we were dead men. Tonight, we had each other.


	17. 16. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS: This is heavy on described violence, and there is a brief mention of non-con.

_"Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins."_  
\--Ecclesiastes 7:20

****

_"Be merciful until you can't be._  
Until you feel your heart begin to harden into a bullet.   
Then use that bullet."  
\--Clementine von Radics

We woke before sunrise. Gabe brewed coffee, used my toothbrush. As I sat smoking next to the small coffee pot, he kissed me sweetly--the kind of kiss a mum might give a dad over breakfast, before sending the children off to school. We drank coffee, smoked my cigarettes. We held hands. We did not speak. There didn't seem to be anything left to say. Too wired to sleep, too nervous to have sex, we sat and stared at the walls. At some point Gabe clicked on the TV--background noise and something to stare at.

The hours ticked on, first slow as cold molasses, then quicker. Before too long it was noon. With a hefty sigh, Gabe stood, rummaging through my bag. He retrieved the plastic freezer bag, pulling it into his lap. "You didn't take any..." He trailed off, still eyeing the pills, the joints, pulling the gun out--loading it, taking the safety off. He put it in the guitar case, snapped it shut with a metal _clink!_

I downed the rest of my coffee--cold, now--in one belt, set the mug down and stood, suddenly resolute.

We took the hotwired car down to Michael's.

I grasped Gabe's wrist before he had time to exit the car, met his eyes as I said, "I love you," with embarrassing conviction.

I was rewarded with a warm smile that lit up his tired eyes. He said, "Arse," sweetly.

As far as possible last words went, I couldn't have wished for better.

****************

"I must admit, Elias," Michael stared me down, cleaning his spectacles with the hem of his starched shirt, "I really didn't think you'd show. I'm mildly impressed."

I stood there, stomach churning, in the room where this all started. The chair and settee from our first meeting off to my left, Michael and the bald monolith from before standing behind a dented metal desk in front of me, staring me down. And Gabe, a steady, silent presence at my side, holding the guitar case cradled in his arms. 

"Yes, well. I have the money to pay you now. In full." I tried to sound confident, even as I stammered.

"Yes, I heard." Michael nodded.

"You...you heard?"

"Wasn't too difficult to piece together. The robbery at Bank Royale?" Michael's eyes swiveled to Gabe, his gaze leveled. "I suppose you had something to do with that, Gabriel."

I felt the hair on my arms stand on end. Next to me, Gabe was seething--visibly shaking with anger. "Fuck you," he spat.

"Ah, yes. I thought so." Michael placed his glasses back on his face, crossed his arms over his chest. "Things never really change, do they? Though I suppose nowadays you pull these kind of stunts for a cheap thrill. Desperate attempts at self-preservation don't typically come into play with Mummy and Daddy as a safety net, no?"

"Fuck you," Gabe hissed, more vehement than before.

"Do you know each other?" I found myself asking, voice so weak I wouldn't have been surprised if they failed to hear me.

"Oh, yes. The three of us go way back." Michael smirked.

"The three of you..." I trailed off, my thought interrupted by a fourth, familiar voice.

"I swear to every deity known to man, Michael, I am sick of you treating me like a servant."

The earth dropped away from me and I found myself once again in suspended animation as Jack came through the door, tea service in hand. In my periphery, Gabriel was quaking with what I assumed to be barely contained rage. Jack set the tray down on the desk and regarded me with thinly veiled amusement.

"Hello, Eli," he smirked. "I trust you're doing well."

"What are you doing here?" Confusion flooded my every synapse, leaving no room for the anger I would later feel.

"Why, Eli," Jack gasped, feigning astonishment. "I thought you of all people would understand the importance of family."

"They're brothers," Gabe managed through gritted teeth. I turned to look at him and found him tremulous with rage, his eyes red-rimmed as though fighting off tears. I felt a deep chasm breaking open between us, making it nearly impossible to reach out and touch him, to feel him, to know him.

"And you know them?" I whispered back, attempting to get a grip.

"As I said, we all go way back. Jack and I were rather close acquaintances with Gabriel's mother. Weren't we, Gabby?"

" _Fuck you_."

Jack sniggered as Michael poured a cup of tea and passed it to his brother. Jack patted me on the shoulder--an old condescending habit he had displayed for as long as I'd known him--as he made his way to a broken-down arm chair off to my right.

I watched him settle lightly into the chair, crossing his slender legs with the same slow, careful movements I'd seen Michael exhibit during our sporadic meetings. I considered the two of them before me--the same-shaped nose, though the bridge of Michael's was slimmer; the same hard set of the jaw. Mannerisms, whether learned or inherent, shared between the two. The thought of Jack and Michael being somehow related had never once crossed my mind, but now that I was seeing the similarities, I could see it clear as day--the two of them as small children, pinching each other's arms, pulling each other's hair, playing in mud puddles in the back garden of some large estate.

I looked back at Michael and found his gaze locked dead on my face. He wore an expression of shrewd boredom--a thing I wasn't aware was possible before that moment. "I assume you have my money stashed somewhere on your person, yes?" 

"Michael! Don't be so blasted rude," Jack interrupted with an ugly laugh. "We haven't even offered our guests tea." 

"Oh, save it, Jack," Michael spat back. "I won't allow you to toy with them like a cat with a mouse. I've waited long enough for my fucking money."

"Shut the fuck up, both of you!" Gabe snapped so suddenly it made the hulking guard jump slightly. "S'been almost twenty years and the two of you are still bickering' like a couple of tots." 

Michael sighed with exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose as Jack set his teacup down with a clatter, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on knees, fire in his eyes. 

"And you're still a mouthy little shit. Some things simply never change." 

"If the two of you are finished, I would appreciate my money." Michael's tone was conversational, only the slight tightness at the corners of his mouth giving hint at something other than just cool, emotional detachment. 

"Yeah, yeah," Gabe grumbled, holding the guitar case by its handle and waving it vaguely before him. "It's right here."

Even through all the thoughts whipping around my head at the speed of light, I found myself saying, "It's all the money I have. Everything," which is funny now, in hindsight. I can still remember, vividly, how Gabe's shoulders dropped in defeat as he started walking the case of money to Michael. He looked so small as he hefted the case up onto the desk. He’d just undone the first clasp when Jack muttered the words that ended it all. 

“It’s a shame you won’t give the kid a try, Mike,” he chuckled. “He’s better with his mouth than his mother was.” 

It was one of those moments the senses find so shocking, they refuse to process it. At first, the words did not register, simply held no meaning. It wasn’t until I caught the defeated sag of Gabe’s shoulders that it truly began to sink in. 

Jack riding with Gabe to McDonald’s. The drive there and back should have taken no more than fifteen minutes, if traffic allowed. How long were they gone? Fuck, I’d spent the better part of that day drunk off my tits with Eddie. How long were they gone? I couldn’t remember. 

I felt a flare of confused betrayal and swept my bewildered gaze over what I could see of Gabe’s face. What I found there made me momentarily numb. Even now, it is a struggle to describe the look held on Gabriel’s face in that moment. The blend of worry and despair and exhaustion the likes of which I’d only ever seen my mother wear. 

The first realization hit as quickly and as violently as a bolt of lightning--whatever transpired between the two of them hadn’t exactly been consensual. 

 

The second realization occurred when I realized my knuckles were being shot through with a pain like which I’ve never experienced as they collided with Jack’s orbital bone for the second time. Off to my left there was the sound of tense, angry yelling, but the inside of my skull was so silent it was as though I was hearing everything outside of myself through a mile of wet cotton wool. 

“--here, you little shit!” That was Michael, I was sure. My fist collided again with Jack’s face, his jaw this time. I grabbed him by the collar, my other hand catching him in the cheek. I felt nothing but a blinding rage, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop until it exhausted itself. 

“--fucking do it! I swear to god, I’ll--” Gabe’s voice broke through, momentarily distracting me. As I started to turn my head towards him, Jack’s fist landed hard against my ribs, winding me. I brought him down with me as I doubled over. He fought against my momentum and I threw a knee into his stomach as we toppled to the dusty concrete floor. 

“--it down! Put it dow--” A new voice, the bodyguard, I later realized. 

“--your little boyfriend,” Jack was saying beneath me, grinning through a mouthful of blood. “And he always will, Eli. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, you know.”

“Fuck you,” I spat back, despite not knowing exactly what he was attempting to say.

“His mother was a cheap little whore as well,” he said, turning his head to spit a thick mixture of blood and saliva onto the rug. 

“Fuck you,” I reiterated, cocking my fist back and bringing it down on his face again and again, repeating, “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck YOU!” 

My body was no longer my own. I became a mere conduit for my rage as I continued to pummel his face with a savagery I never knew I possessed. I couldn’t stop. Not even when the first gunshot sounded. 

“GABE?!” I shouted through the deafening silence that followed. 

“Eli!” he shouted in answer, letting me know he was okay. 

“Kill him!” Jack wheezed and spluttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood once more. “Kill that little prick!” The last word choked off in a wheeze as I grasped him by the neck and squeezed, bringing my arm back and forth, bashing his head against the concrete floor. 

Another deafening gunshot ripped through the room, but I just kept my hold tight on Jack’s neck. Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. Until I felt a hand, soft on my shoulder. 

“Eli.” Gabe spoke quietly, shook me gently. “Eli, stop.” 

It took my mind a few moments to catch up, my grip relenting, leaning back on my haunches as the rage and adrenaline began to recede like a tide. I took in the man underneath me as I sucked in large pulls of breath through my nose. Jack was a mess, breath rasping with his own blood, a puddle of it slowly seeping out from under his head in an uneven halo. His face was nearly unrecognizable, bruised and swollen. Off to the left were a smattering of his broken teeth, scattered on the concrete floor like a constellation. 

As my mind finally caught up to what I had done, I scrambled backwards, knocking my spine against an end table (though I hardly felt it), and uttered a barely audible, _“Christ!”_. A blasphemy. A prayer. 

Across the room were the bodies of Mike and his bodyguard, shot dead by Gabriel. I felt panic rise within me, welling up and up and up until I had to swallow back bile. Gabe looked from the sprawl of Jack to me, and I clearly read on his face _”At this point this will be a mercy.”_. He extended his arm, aimed the gun squarely at Jack’s face, and pulled the trigger. 

_”We’re the only two alive,”_ I thought dumbly to myself over and over, _”We’re the only two alive.”_ I followed Gabe’s instructions as my mood swung back and forth from panicked to numb. We wiped away fingerprints. I put Gabe’s gun in Mike’s hand as Gabe bashed the guard’s knuckles against the brick wall. 

We crept out the back door, guitar case in hand, and clambered into the car. I watched him from the corner of my eye--the slight tremor of his hand on the wheel, the way he gnawed at the thumb of his other hand. The far off look in his eyes. My guts kept churning amidst a violent whirl of clashing emotions. 

“We need to find a different car,” he said, voice hollow. 

I meant to agree with him. Instead, when I opened my mouth, what came out was a question I hadn’t yet realized was on my mind until that very moment. “Were you a part of this?” 

The car suddenly lurched before correcting. “Are you serious? Are you _serious_!?” Gabe repeated, his voice gradually rising in pitch. 

“Gabe, I have to ask. You knew them! You knew them and you didn’t tell me!”

“What would you have said, Eli? What would you have said if--”

“Did you think you could keep it from me? That they just wouldn’t let on that they knew you?”

“Fuck. I wanted to tell you. I kept trying before, in the hotel--”

“You didn’t say anything! You didn’t say a fucking thing the whole time! Christ. Christ! How? How do you know them?”

“They were…friends of my mum’s.”

“Friends? They were ‘friends’ of your mum’s? What kind of friends--”

“Leave it, Eli.”

“Leave it!? I’ve been ‘leaving it’ for almost a fucking year, Gabriel! I’ve not asked anything of you or your plans or your fucking past--can I just get a fucking answer for once? Please!” 

“My mother had a drug problem, okay? Okay, Eli? She worked for them for a little while when I was young. She worked for them. They weren’t friends. She did things for them. Fuck’s sake.” 

My anger suddenly shrunk from an inferno to an ember, and all I could think to say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh’,” Gabe gritted out. His still-unspent rage was fully evident as he went on, ardently as before, “And I’ll tell you something, Eli. I didn’t want to kill Eddy. I didn’t. He was a fucking moron who just got caught up in some shit he wasn’t prepared for. But I don’t regret killing _them_. I might feel different tomorrow, but right now? Right now I’m glad I did it. Okay?”

“Okay.” I’d hit bottom, completely empty inside. I was prepared to spend the rest of the ride in quiet, trying to parse out my feelings, when Gabe broke the heavy silence. 

“We’re here.” 

And so we were. He’d pulled up to my flat while I was distracted by my scattered thoughts. I heaved a burdensome sigh. 

“Listen. I’ll grab the bags and carry them up, yeah? It’s been...it’s been a long day. We should, erm...probably have a kip or something.”

Gabe was noncommittal, saying and doing nothing as I pulled the guitar case and my bag of clothes from the boot of the car. I figured I’d give him a moment to compose himself, setting my baggage down on the pavements to light a cigarette for us to share. 

Instead, he drove off in a squelch of tire smoke. Abandoning me. Again.


	18. 17. The Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of neglect and drug use.

**17\. The Star**

_"You have my permission not to love me; I am a cathedral of deadbolts and I'd rather burn myself down than change the locks."  
\--Rachel McKibbens, Letters From My Brain To My Heart_

I threw my clothes and the guitar case into my foyer and locked the door behind me. Down on the street, I lit another cigarette and called a cab, smoking as I waited. Again, I found myself angry and confused. And more importantly--and devastatingly--alone. For the third time since meeting him, I wanted to punch Gabe in the face. Silently, I cursed myself for falling in love with such an aggravating human being as I climbed into the back of the cab. I gave the driver the address of a cafe a block away from Gabe’s flat and chewed at my fingernails the entire ride over.

Gabe's door was unlocked when I reached it. I slipped inside silently, toeing off my worn trainers in the foyer, treading lightly over the polished wood flooring in my socked feet. I found him in the bedroom, curled onto his side turned away from the door. I circled round, dropping to my knees at the side of the bed. His face was wet, his eyes red and puffy. It was the first time I'd seen him crying in the unforgiving light of day. He was not a pretty crier. He was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. My heart ached for him.

"Why are you here," I asked, pushing his limp fringe off his forehead, "and not at mine?"

"I may have done some thinking while I was away. In prison. And rehab." His voice was a broken vase glinting in the sunlight--jagged, but still warm.

"Oh yeah? About what?" I kept my voice soft, stroking my palm down the curve of his skull over and over.

"I'm the first bloke you've ever been with. That ain't fair. You should be out there playin' the field, not clinging to me and calling it love." His voice lacked its usual tone of authority. He sounded as though he believed what he was saying, but wanted it even less than I did.

"True. But none of those men have been through hell and back with me. It's kind of hard to beat the history we have. And the chemistry."

"You're just dead set on staying with me as long as I'll have you, ain't ya?"

"I'm dead set on staying with you even when you don't want me. Like when you're trying to pawn me off on theoretical other men." I smirked at him and he smirked back.

"Hey, I just want you to be with me because I'm the _best_ dick you've ever had--not the only dick."

"I could be with you and sleep with other men." I teased.

"Now, that hardly seems fair. We're having three-ways or nothin'."

"Agreed. Weekly three-ways. Three-way Thursdays. We'll get some dips in and go out looking for someone to have meaningless sex with."

"You're such an arse." He beamed at me, eyes watery again.

"Come on," I breathed, tugging at his wrist. "Let's go back to mine."

Thankfully, he relented.

****************************

Gabe sat on my sofa, blanket wrapped round his shoulders, mug of tea cradled in his hands. Thirty minutes before, we’d arrived at my flat and I immediately guided him to the bathroom. Slowly, carefully, I stripped him down and bathed him--washing his hair, sponging his back, his stomach, his thighs. Kissed his wet skin. I wrapped him in towels, dried him off, helped him into a pair of my old pyjama bottoms. He watched me with tired eyes through all of this, hands limp at his sides.

I settled next to him on the sofa--close, but not touching. He felt miles away from me still, and though I wanted to reach out to him--physically, emotionally--I also wanted to give him his space. If there was anything I knew for certain about Gabe, it was that he needed control, and that had been unceremoniously ripped away from him in more ways than I could comprehend. I didn’t want to compound that by repeating the incident in the car. 

I realized, as we sat there so close but not touching, it felt as though we were back at the beginning of our relationship. Wanting to be near each other, scared to touch, still feeling out the boundaries of what is and is not allowed. 

Slowly, so slowly, we fell back into each other’s orbit, until we were snuggled into each other, Gabe’s head on my shoulder. I found myself gently pulling my fingers through Gabe’s hair, my fingertips massaging his scalp. 

Gabe sighed, “I’ll tell you more eventually. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t wanna talk about it. Not tonight, anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Eli?”

“Yes, Gabe?” 

“Can we order some take away?” 

“Okay.”

*****************

I woke that night to an empty bed, the space beside me long cold. I tried not to panic as I pulled on my housecoat and shoved my glasses onto my face. I headed towards the bathroom to check for him, but noticed light spilling down the hall from the kitchen. 

I found him sitting at the table, reading the journal I’d kept while he was away. 

“You did say I could read this, yeah?” he asked. It was a tone I didn’t recognize at first, because I’d never really heard it from him before. He was shy, reticent. I nodded, and he dipped his head back down to continue reading.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I crossed the kitchen to start brewing coffee as silence descended once more. I sat across him and sipped my coffee as he read, watching through bleary eyes as he turned page after page. 

“You should write,” he said suddenly, “More. I mean, professionally. You’re quite good, I think.”

“Quite good,” I sniffed a laugh out of my nose. “Ta.”

“I mean it. I really like this bit about you being the ocean. I think it’s...beautiful. Bit sad, but beautiful.” 

“Mmm.”

Another beat stretched out between us for what seemed like an eternity before I could no longer stand it.

“You want some coffee?” 

“Yeah. Please,” he mumbled, obviously engrossed in my words. I felt more naked than I ever did, even the first time we fucked. I poured him a cup and snuck a peek at the journal as I set the mug down before him. It was the entry from 4 June, about my dream. From the day he came back to me. 

I sat back down at the table across from him, breathing slowly and refusing to allow myself to take my eyes off him. I watched as he shut the journal, rubbing roughly at his face. 

“You’re a good bloke, Eli. Like, genuinely. I know…” he trailed off, seemed to either steel himself or gather his thoughts as he kept his eye trained on the dented metal tabletop, head still in hands. “I know you went through some shit growing up. And I’m not trying to take away from that. But I went through some shit, too. Different shit. I fucking hate the term ‘street smarts’, but…”

He cut himself off again, sighing. “Look, I could have let you in on my plans for all this, yeah? Hell, maybe I _should_ have let you know. You’re not an idiot like Eddie was. Bless him. But...you’ve never had to deal with people quite like Mike and Jack, yeah? And you’ve never committed a crime. Right? You haven’t before all this, have you?” He finally looked up at me. 

“I shoplifted from a Tesco’s once,” I shrugged. 

“Arse.” Finally, a smile. It faded slowly from his mouth, but the sincerity remained in his eyes. “I didn’t want...I didn’t want anything to happen to you like what happened to Eddie. And I figured the best way to do that would be to keep you at my side. And the less you knew beforehand, the closer you’d stick to me.” 

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Are you upset with me? About that, I mean.”

“Not currently.”

“I’ll settle for that.” 

 

*****************

Late that evening, Gabe locked himself in the bathroom, the shower running. I stayed in bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette, still naked. It seemed appropriate to have no barriers, nothing between us. Nothing but the bathroom door. We'd been practically attached at the hip since his return. He'd follow me into the bathroom and sit on the floor while I showered. And yet he'd locked me out. Thirty minutes. I stared at the door until I couldn't anymore, laying on my back and pulling the duvet up over me.

Five minutes after my resignation, the shower shut off. The door opened. I didn't look, but I could picture him, backlit by the bare bulb in the bathroom, damp and naked. From the foot of the bed, he pulled the covers off me, crawled over me, covered my body with his. I kept my eyes closed, breathing even, as he pressed light kisses along my jaw, my chin. I could feel his cock, hard against my stomach. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him, savoring each tiny moan that left his lips. Skin soft and damp and warm from the shower. I wanted to touch him all over.

He pulled back, moving to straddle my hips. "I wanna try something, yeah?" he asked softly, stroking my cock.

"What?" I rubbed his thighs, his hips.

"Want it to be a surprise."

"You need me to move?" He shook his head and I relaxed into the pillows, sighing contentedly as he leaned down to kiss me. He shifted in my lap, grasping my shaft. He guided the head of my cock between his cheeks and it met his hole, slick and open, ready. I gasped into his mouth as he sank his hips down slowly, grasping his thighs hard. I couldn't breathe. He was so tight. The heat of him magnified like sunlight through a windscreen.

He pulled back from me, leaning back, taking more of me in. It was a struggle for both of us--Gabe trying to relax as I tried not to fly apart at the seams. It felt like bomb defusal--one wrong move, one misplaced touch, one ill-timed breath and it'd all be over.

His arse touched the tops of my thighs and he paused, head tilted up toward the ceiling as my fingers dug painfully into his flesh. He chuckled suddenly, a breathless sound, jostling me inside of him. I dug my fingers in deeper. I could keep it together. I would keep it together. I'd make him feel as good as he makes me feel. I just had to hold it together. I just had to--

"Christ, Eli," he said, with a half-laugh, half-moan. "I swear, s'like I can feel you here." He pointed to the base of his throat.

It was all over. My hips jerked and I came inside of him with a choked off sob. He squawked, laughed again, grinding his hips down into me, milking me dry. 

And still, I wanted him with a ferocity that felt like smothering, still grinding up into him before I could get soft. He put his hand to the middle of my chest, leant down to kiss me slow and thorough. 

“You’re pushin’ rope, Eli,” he breathed sweetly, nuzzling my jaw. I was annoyed. I was embarrassed. I was happy he didn’t seem any less attracted to me. I was craving him. 

Gabe squawked as I rolled us over, pressed his back into the mattress. Once the shock wore off--somewhere between the initial flip and my kissing down his neck--an uncontrollable laugh overtook him, his body wracked with it. I grinned into his skin as my lips traveled further down his body, caught up in his surprise, in his joy. Which is why I think it was so easy for me to forget to be self conscious long enough to wrap my lips around the head of his cock. Gabe’s laughter was cut off abruptly by a soft grunt.

“Eli,” he sighed, “You don’t have to…” 

He trailed off as my lips sank lower and I started sucking. I realized very quickly that I had no real idea what I was doing and would probably have to compensate with enthusiasm. And so I went for it. There were several false starts just trying to get some sort of a rhythm set, sucking while bobbing, trying not to gag myself. What I couldn’t comfortably fit of him in my mouth, I wrapped my fist around, attempting to stroke in time with the movements of my mouth. 

“Mm, that’s it, Eli,” Gabe breathed, his head falling back into the pillows, “Just like that, darlin’.”

Emboldened, I circled the tip of my finger slowly around his entrance, slipping it in when I didn’t meet any resistance. The niggling voice in the back of my mind crept back in, insisting Gabe only did this--bottoming? Is it still bottoming if you’re on top?--for me.

“I...is this okay?” I asked, pulling back.

He scowled down at me, dazed, and forced his hips down against my hand. “I’m gonna need more than just that one finger after having your whopping great cock in me, Eli,” he breathed. 

I didn’t know what to say, though I’m sure I stammered. I took him back into my mouth to avoid having to say anything in response. So I carried on, sliding two fingers inside of him as I attempted to regain my rhythm and pacing, succeeding--however clumsily--after a couple of minutes. 

After a while, Gabe began to writhe beneath me, his hips canting down onto my hand as encouraging words and soft moans escaped his lips. Gabe had both of his hands on my head--one grasping the hair at the base of my skull, holding the curls out of the way as the fingers of his other hand stroked up and down my nape--his hips continuing to rock. 

I felt drunk. On his pleasure. On the taste of him. On the sounds he was beginning to make, louder and more frequent. My neck was beginning to ache--hunched over as I was--and I had gotten hard again at some point but none of it mattered. My one thought was giving Gabe the type of pleasure he had consistently given me since that first night in the car.

Things were going so well with two fingers, I got brave and decided to try three--Gabe's thighs shaking as he let out a gasp--constant babble spilling from his lips, "Yeah, g'on, Eli. Fuck, yeah, just like that. Mmm, suck me harder---Christ, yes, Eli." His hand just tightening on the back of my neck, holding on for dear life. 

Gabe's breath was coming in fast ragged pants, his grip on my hair tightening, pulling sharply until finally he tensed--throat swelling with a noise too feeble to be called a scream. I had to abandon my grip on Gabe's cock to hold his hips down as they jerked uncontrollably up toward my mouth--trying to swallow even as Gabe continued to shoot jet after jet of his release in short bursts, breathy "Ah, ah, ah!"s falling from his mouth with each. 

I’d never seen this version of Gabriel before--a Gabriel swept up and lost in his own pleasure. I watched him, eyes wide, frozen, taking him in as he worked through orgasm. Caught up in the sight even as I spluttered on the release suck in the back of my throat. 

“Are...are you alright?” I asked once he seemed to have somewhat composed himself. 

“Genius,” he sighed, dreamily. 

Gabe stretched out onto his side and patted the mattress next to him. Still a bit shell-shocked, I laid down next to him, not putting up much fuss when he insisted upon spooning. He kissed along the back of my neck where his nails left angry, red crescents--the hand of the arm thrown round my middle stroking my chest. I craned my head back, my lips meeting Gabe's for a slow, heated kiss. He pinched my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and I gasped into his mouth.

He trailed his fingers gently down my torso, pausing between my legs to stroke through the short curls of pubic hair. "What about you," he asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"F-fantasic," I murmured, wriggling my hips in an effort to get Gabe to touch me properly.

"Was nice, wasn't it? Making me moan and scream and come for you, hmm?" He wrapped his fist around my cock, stroking slowly, thumbing the head.

"Oh! F-fantastic," I repeated, this time with more enthusiasm. My hips rocked in time to Gabriel's strokes, silently pleading with him to speed up. I was surprised when Gabe complied--twisting on the upstroke, pushing my foreskin up over my steadily leaking head.

"Now you know how I feel," Gabe breathed against my neck, gently sucking and nibbling at the sweat-salty skin. "S'nice, isn't it? Knowing you can do that to somebody-- _for_ somebody. But it's a lot of work, innit? Getting someone to feel like that..."

"Yes," I hissed, practically lost in delirium, replaying the moments before when Gabe was beneath me, writhing and moaning and abandoned over and over in my mind even as he lay pressed up behind me, skin to skin as he pumped my throbbing cock.

"Hard work and big responsibility, fuckin' someone til they lose all sense of themselves." Gabe paused in his speech, seeming to consider his next words carefully, before finally saying, "I know I ain't good with words, Eli--I told you that--but if you still doubt I love you after tonight, you're a god damned fool."

I grasped Gabe's wrist, needing something to hold on to, feeling the flex of tendons beneath the skin, as I cane with a low, whining groan. 

Sleepy and thoroughly fucked--Gabe snuggled close, nuzzling against the nape of my neck as I breathed hard, shaking a little bit. He pressed his sticky fingers against my lip and I opened up immediately, sucking my release off his fingers. Hand clean, Gabe reached down the bed and pulled the covers up over us both--all warm and snuggled close, holding his hand to my chest, pressed against my pounding heart.

I whispered, "S-say it again? Please?"

Gabe smirked against my shoulder and said, "Eli, go to sleep." 

*****

It had been a slow day. We spent most of it in bed, sleeping on and off. I had only left to buy some groceries. When I returned, I found Gabe, still in bed, my guitar laid across his bare lap. 

“You never did play me a song,” he grinned up at me, but it seemed...off. Watery around the edges, perhaps. 

“Any requests?” I asked, crossing over to sit on the edge of the bed. He shook his head, making room for me to lay behind me on the mattress. 

“Do you write your own?” he asked suddenly, quietly. 

“Erm...some. They’re not very good--”

“I’d like to hear them.”

“Okay.” 

And so I begun to play. I felt clumsy with it, at first, having not played for months. Slowly, I began to get more in the groove, playing one of my mid-tempo, blues-ier tunes. I felt his hand, light against my hip, halfway through. When I was done, he requested another. So I played a similar song, this one slower, plodding and sorrowful. A song I wrote with my mother in mind. When the song--all eight minutes of it--ended, he requested I play it again. 

Eventually, he began to talk. __

_My mum had me when she was nineteen. Didn’t expect to have me. At least not that young. She was...going through a pretty rough time at that point. She’d just left my father--I never met him--and he, uhm...wasn’t that great of a man. Abusive. She told me all about that when I was about five years old, just a nipper. She weren’t really in her right mind at that point. The heroin...you know._

They were snatches of details, snapshots of unhappy times. The older sketches I found in his work room began to make more sense. I wanted to reach out to him, take him up in my arms and try to hold him together the way he held me. He went on to tell me of her spiral into addiction, her inability to keep the lights on in the flat, to keep food on the table. Her getting involved with Michael and Jack in her struggle to keep money coming into the house even as she spent most of the money on drugs. 

I played my song two more times as shards of memories sliced their way out of his mouth, leaving him like droplets of blood. When my song faded out for the last time, he remained more silent than I’d ever heard him. 

Slowly, I placed my guitar down on the floor and made a quarter turn towards him. Reaching out blindly, I felt around the mattress until my fingers brushed his hand. He grasped them and squeezed tightly, then tugged me towards him insistently, until I lay down next to him.

He slotted himself into my arms, his head on my chest. I pressed my nose into his hair, kissed the crown of his head. “Am I...am I the only one you’ve told all this to?” When he nodded, I had to collect myself and my thoughts--caught somewhere between honored and gobsmacked. There was no way he could deal with all of this on his own. He’d been trying for too long to deal with it on his own. And I knew for a fact _I_ was in no position to give him the help he needed. 

“There was therapy in the group home?” 

Slowly, he nodded. 

“Gabe…”

“Eli,” he sighed. 

“I know, I know. But…” I searched for the words to describe what I was thinking, what I was feeling. So he was proud. So he was stubborn. So he was independent. He would never seek it out on his own, but the situation we were in--he was in--was the perfect excuse to accept help. 

“Eli, please don’t say somethin’ about how ‘God works in mysterious ways’.” 

“I’m just saying…”

He stayed so silent for such a long time, I assumed he had fallen asleep. I sighed, allowing my shoulders to relax into the pillows beneath me, and stared up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t want to go back just yet.” His voice was small, but so sudden it made me jump. 

“Okay.”

“Two weeks. Two weeks out, and then I’ll go back.” ‘And do therapy’ was obviously implied. 

“Week and a half,” I ventured. 

“Okay.” 

“I love you.”

“Arse. You’re like a siren. Comin’ in here and tricking me with your song.”

“You’re ridiculous.”


	19. 18. The Moon

18\. The Moon

"Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won't. This is what love is."  
\--Welcome to Nightvale

 

“I’m serious, Eli, it’s a good idea.” 

The serious discussion of the day started at roughly six in the morning. I woke to find Gabe reading my journal again, this time sitting up next to me in bed, reading by the sparse light coming through the window. I rubbed my eyes, mumbled something about my embarrassment, and promptly fell back to sleep. 

When I woke up for good, he asked me if I was really interested in some of the sexual things--dreams, fantasies-- I’d written down in the journal. 

Standing at the kitchen worktop, trying to make waffles as Gabe clung to me like a limpet--his face nuzzling between my shoulderblades--I nearly regretted telling him I was interested. He’d not let it alone all morning, wanting to have a serious discussion, and I, feeling too vulnerable answering any of these questions aloud, wanted none of it. 

“I’m not saying it isn’t, Gabriel. I just don’t want to discuss it at half eight in the morning,” I grit out through my teeth. I had been on edge since the night before, aggravated for no discernable reason. 

“That’s bullshit. You don’t want to discuss it at all. But it’s important, Eli.” He snuggled in closer, pressing a few quick kisses against my spine before mumbling, “Should have talked about this ages ago, actually. Feel kinda guilty rushing you into all of this like I did.” 

“You didn’t rush me into anything, Gabe!” I shuffled a freshly done waffle perhaps a little too emphatically onto a plate. “I was as ready as I could be for everything we did.”

“Eli,” he spoke as though I were an idiot, “I was the first man you’d ever been with, sexually. We went from a blowie in the car, to some shower rutting, and straight from that to full on anal penetration.”

“Please, for the love of God, don’t phrase it like that ever again.” 

“My point still stands.” He seemed to think for a moment before saying, “I’m not having sex with you again until you come up with a safe word.”

“A safe word!?” I barked out a laugh. “What do we need a safe word for?” 

“Just in case! Like...is there anything you wouldn’t let me do to you?” 

I considered it for a long moment, and found my mind coming up empty. “I mean...as long as it didn’t involve animals, children, or bodily waste…”

I heard him mutter a soft “Jesus,” to himself before saying, clearer, “You see? That’s exactly why we need a safe word. What if we stumble ‘cross something you don’t like? Or something gets too intense and you need me to stop?”

“Then I’ll just tell you to stop!” I turned and passed him a plate of waffles, started walking my own over to the table. 

“Spanking!” he interjected suddenly, as though that were a winning argument on its own. 

“What about it?” I mumbled, feeling my ears heat up. 

He gave a too-casual shrug and sat down across from me. “Sometimes people say ‘stop’ when they’re getting spanked, even when they don’t mean ‘stop’.” I felt his toes creeping up the inside of my leg, coming to a rest against my cock, which began rapidly filling in my pants. Fucking traitors, the both of them. “Just saying.” 

“Fine!” I barked, using perhaps too much force to cut my waffle apart with the edge of my fork. I scanned the kitchen, my eyes falling upon the newly stocked fruit bowl next to the sink. “Satsuma. Satsuma’s the safe word.” 

“Good,” Gabe said, dismantling his own waffle with the appropriate amount of muscle. “Satsuma it is.” 

“Glad we cleared that up,” I grumbled, stuffing a bite of waffle into my mouth. Gabe smirked down at his plate and flexed his toes against the stiffening line of my cock. “Would you stop that!?”

Gabe looked up at me through his lashes, his gaze heavy, freezing me in place. “You know what to say if you want me to stop, Eli.”

_Shit._ I didn’t expect for our little game to begin so soon after our discussion, and found myself caught between my previous agitated mood and wanting to see how this would play out. 

“Gabe…”

“Just say the word and I’ll stop.” He shrugged innocently, turning his focus back to his waffles even as he continued to massage me with his foot beneath the table. 

In a move that surprised even me, I clamped my thighs around his ankle, trapping his foot between my legs. Looking back now, I know I was spoiling for a fight--a safe one. A scene. Something to get the adrenaline going, to let it all out, take the edge off. 

Gabe’s snapped his head up at me, caught off guard. “Eli,” he warned, “let go of my foot.”

“No.” I shoved a forkful of waffle into my mouth, kept my thighs clamped around his ankle. 

“Eli, I’m not going to tell you again. Let go of my foot.” I shook my head, continuing to eat my breakfast. “Okay. Five.” Gabe said, voice stern.

I assumed he was counting down like a parent might with a child, and rolled my eyes. 

“Ten,” he continued a beat later, throwing me for a loop. In my confusion, my grip on his ankle loosened. “C’mon, Eli. Don’t make me get to fifteen,” he chided. 

Finally cottoning on, I released him from my hold, my cheeks flaming. I was rewarded with a “good boy” from Gabe as he pushed his chair back and walked over to my side of the table. 

“Stand up,” he said softly, “and take your trousers and pants down.”

“What!? Why?” I was incredulous, even as I stood.

“You’re getting ten whacks for disobeying me,” he explained calmly. “Now take your trousers and pants down before you earn yourself five more.” 

Gulping down what was left of my pride (and mouthful of waffle), I lowered my gaze to my feet, my fingers making quick work of my button and zip. I pushed my jeans and pants down to my knees and awaited further instruction, my face burning as my erection bobbed freely between my thighs. 

“Good. Now turn and place your hands on the table top. G’on,” he cajoled, and I complied. I felt his fingers stroking through my hair and then down, down my back until he was gently kneading my arse. 

“Do you remember what you need to say to make me stop?” I nodded. “Let me hear it, Eli.”

“S-satsuma,” I stuttered through my nerves. 

“Very good.” His grip on my arse hardened, kneading firmer. “You know why you’re being punished?” 

“Y-yes,” I stammered, pushing back against his hand. 

“Let me hear it, Eli,” he repeated. “It’s important to me that you know why I’m doing this.” 

“Because I disobeyed you,” I mumbled, my face aflame. 

“Very good, darlin’.” His voice was sweet and it caught me off guard when his hand left my arse and then came back down hard. I gasped in a large breath, my body tensing for a moment, then relaxing into the feeling of warmth spreading outwards from the site of impact. I felt him nuzzle into the patch of skin behind my ear, and shivered as he whispered, “You wanna count them for me?” 

“O-one,” I breathed, my body beginning to shake with the anticipation of the next blow. 

“Good boy.” He kissed my ear and leaned back away from my body. I felt his left hand slide upwards, resting between my shoulder blades as his right hand left my body entirely. There was a moment’s pause, and then his hand came down twice against the swell of my arse. A low, keening noise left my throat unbidden, and my cock throbbed. 

“Three.”

“Very good,” Gabe soothed. The words were barely out of his mouth before his hand came down against my other cheek, three more times in quick succession. 

A too-loud, “OH!” escaped my mouth before I could stop it. My body felt hot all over, not just my arse. The heat was spreading through my veins and I felt as though I were smothering. It struck me how ridiculous it all was--how I was just an hour before at Tesco’s picking up fresh fruit and waffle ingredients, and now, there I was, bent over my kitchen table with a ever-reddening arse and pre-come dripping steadily from the head of my cock. I couldn’t help it--I laughed. 

“Six,” I chuckled breathlessly.

“You’re an absolute nutter,” Gabe laughed, affectionately. I felt his hand grip my arse again, kneading with sure fingers. “How you feeling, darlin’?”

“Still got four more to go.” I could hear myself practically purring at his touch, and decided not to feel too embarrassed by it. 

“I’m aware.” I could hear the humor in his voice, his fingertips trailing closer to my arse crack. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you can take it harder?” he questioned lightly. I moaned low in the back of my throat, pressing my hips back against his hand. “D’you want it harder, Eli?” 

“P-please,” I gasped, needing it--needing the release. 

The next slap came without word or warning. It landed hard on my right cheek, rocking my body into the table. I cried out, collapsing onto my forearms as I sucked in air through clenched teeth, breathing through the pain. 

“Seven,” I finally ground out.

“Do you need a moment?” he asked softly, fingertips trailing lightly over my throbbing flesh.

“No.” My voice was on the verge of a whine, and I canted my hips back toward his hand, seeking out firmer contact. “Just three more.” 

I heard a low, growling moan behind me, felt Gabe pressing his hips against my burning arse. He was still wearing my pajama bottoms--his erection obvious and hot through the thin material. I rubbed myself against him, hissing at the soreness it caused even as it sparked pleasantly against my arousal. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this, Eli,” he breathed, rocking against me, teasing. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Gabe, please!” I was whining now, it was undeniable. “Fuck, just--please.”

He gave his hips a parting roll before backing up, steadying the both of us with a hand at the small of my back. There was a moment where there was nothing but the sound of our harsh breaths.

His hand came down against me twice--one to each cheek--and I groaned loudly. My cock bobbed heavily against the edge of the table, continuing to steadily leak.

“Christ, I’m--I’m close,” I moaned, my head hung between my arms. 

“Number,” Gabe breathed, sounding on the verge of awe. 

“Nine.” I took a deep, shaking breath before pleading, “Please, Gabe, fuck.”

He delivered the last blow--the hardest of all--to my left cheek, and I gave a shout. He was on me almost immediately, his body draped over my back. His hand stroked down my side as he yammered praise at me, wrapping his fist around my aching cock. I pressed my cheek into the metal tabletop, panting raggedly as I let my orgasm rush through me--sooner than even I anticipated. 

I felt wet fingertips pressed against my lips and opened up to suck my release from his digits. I felt blissful and light, my mind clearer than it was before the scene started. I rested there against the table with Gabe against my back, petting my hair and whispering sweet words to me. We stayed like that for a few moments before he said, “I’m not leaving you, I’m just going to get you a pillow to sit on, okay?”

“Okay,” I sighed, dreamily. I felt his body leave mine and heard his feet padding down the hall into the bedroom. He was back in a moment, placing the pillow in my seat. 

“C’mon, darlin’,” he cooed, taking my arm to pull me upright. I stood and allowed myself to be steered to my chair. “There you go, very good, darlin’.” 

I sat down and was met with an immediate dull discomfort. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow, aren’t I?” 

“I’d be shocked if you weren’t,” Gabe admitted, stepping closer to run his fingers through my hair. I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head against his stomach. “But I’ll take care of you.”

“You’ll take care of me in the early morning and late afternoon,” I mumbled against his skin. “I’m seeing Jen tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit!” he laughed. “Sorry.”

I shrugged, running a hand from his lower back around to his hip, creeping closer to his groin. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” He bent, dropped a kiss to the crown of my head. “I’m not worried about me. Eat your waffle before it gets colder.” 

He untangled himself from my arms, and I watched as he walked to the other side of the table and sat down. He threw me a wink as he grabbed up his fork and started cutting apart his own waffle. I watched him for a moment--the weak sunlight hitting his bare arms, his mussed hair, his simple enjoyment of his breakfast--and dropped to my knees, crawling under the table to take his pleasure into my hands. 

And mouth. 

*******************

“What’s wrong with Juniper?” Jen asked, her words muffled by her paper mask. 

She stood in the doorway of one of Jan’s guest rooms as I painted it--with windows open--helping turn it into a nursery. I had read in all the literature that women will go through a phase in their pregnancy called ‘nesting’, and Jen seemed right on time with that.

“I”ve never really cared for plant-based names,” I mumbled, trying not to get any of the pale yellow paint Jen had picked out on the skirting boards. 

“Eli,” she sighed, exasperated, “you’ve shot down every name I’ve come up with. Do _you_ have any suggestions?” I took a long enough pause to cause suspicion. “Eli?”

“I was thinking...it’d be nice if we could name her--if it is a her--”

“Eli, spit it out, please.” 

“That we could name her after my Mum.”

Silence.

I kept my back to her, continuing to paint the wall. 

“I quite like Mary Anne,” she finally said softly. 

“You do?” I turned, allowing myself to feel hopeful. 

“Yeah. It’s a very nice name, Eli.” She smiled sweetly, her eyes going soft. “I..I know how much she means to you.”

I smiled back, feeling a catch in my throat. “Thank you.”

“So,” Jen said after a beat, “Mary Anne for a girl, and we’re still in agreement on Benjamin for a boy, yes?” 

“Yep.” 

”Good. Are you hungry? There’s cold cuts in the fridge. I could make us sandwiches,” she offered, pulling the painter’s mask off her face. 

“Actually, I could do with a break, yeah. Thanks.” I stood, my knees aching from having knelt for so long, and followed her out into the kitchen. She flitted silently around, from fridge to work top, as I stood at the opened patio door, smoking a cigarette. 

“Is something the matter?” I asked. It wasn’t like her to not fill empty air with all kinds of prattle. Clearly, I have a type. 

She sighed, pausing in her efforts to evenly spread mustard over a slice of brown bread. “I just...I know I’m being…” She paused and took a breath, clearly aggravated with herself. “What’s he like?”

“Who?” I asked, even as it dawned on me. “Gabe?” 

She nodded. 

“He’s…” Wonderful? Insane? Loving? Sexy? I felt myself at a loss for words. How do you begin to attempt to sum up Gabe? “Why do you want to know?”

“I know it’s none of my business. I do,” I watched as she layered meats and cheeses between slices of bread. “But..you do realize how...it blindsided me, is all.”

“My being...interested in men, you mean?” She nodded. “Trust me, Jenny--it surprised me as well.” 

“So you’re _not_ gay?” she asked, handing me my sandwich. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. I...I do know I’ve been interested in men as well for as long as I can remember.” I admitted. Aloud. For the first time. I lifted the sandwich toward her and mumbled a quick “Cheers”. 

“Did you ever...act on it?” She looked apologetic for even asking, which was the only thing that kept me from feeling too affronted. 

“No. No, he’s, um...he’s my first.” My ears burned as I bit into my sandwich, averting my gaze. 

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I chuckled. “Have you picked out a crib yet?” 

***********

He was sleeping next to me. I wanted to savor it, to freeze the moment in my mind in order to revisit it when he left me again. He lay flat on his stomach, hair a tangled mess, his face turned away from me. The sheet had slipped down his body during the night, his back exposed to me, soft and smooth and pale. I reached out, stroking my palm down over it, stopping at the small of his back, then up again, down again. I felt his spine stretch beneath my hand, watched as he turned his head toward me on the pillow, blinking with tired eyes. So tired.

It was the weariest I'd ever seen him, and I felt my heart swell for him, break for him. I wanted to give him everything I had and then some. I wanted to do for him what he'd always done for me. Love him. Make him feel whole and safe and comforted. Protect him.

"Wotcher?" he said groggily, smirking, and I found my face coming toward his, kissing him, unbrushed teeth and all. I love you, _I tried to tell him without words._ Even with your fucked up past and your fucked up family. Even when your hair's a mess and you have morning breath. I love you without conditions. God, do I love you. __

_Skin shifting on sheets, the feel of being turned about in the tide. I found myself on top of him, hips grinding together slowly, breaths mingling._

_“Too tired to fuck,” he breathed against my cheek, kissing over my stubble, “Just wanna feel you.”_

_“I could erm...I could take care of it for us,” I stammered awkwardly, hastily adding, “If you want, that is.”_

_He chuckled softly, his short nails scratching at my scalp, “Yeah? And just how would you do that, hmm?”_

_“I could…” I cleared my throat, steadying myself. “I could put my mouth on you.”_

_This earned me a hardier chuckle than the last. “On my what, Eli?”_

_Glad for the early morning darkness that surrounded us, I murmured, “On your cock”, blushing furiously._

_“And what would we do about you, hmm?” he teased, grinding slowly but insistently against me._

_“I could...take care of myself.”_

_“Aw, that’s no fun,” Gabe tisked, pushing at my chest until I backed away--kneeling between his spread legs. I watched as he leaned up on an elbow and dug around in my bedside drawer, retrieving the lube. He tossed it down beside his hip on the mattress._

_“I thought you were too tired to...you know…” I mumbled, eyeing him as he pulled me down for another kiss._

_“Want you to try again,” he breathed against my lips. “Want you to fuck me.”_

_“Are you sure?” I was frankly shocked that he’d want me to try again after our last attempt._

_“Want you.” He kissed me again and then lay back, spreading his legs a bit wider. “If you want to, that is.”_

_“Y-yeah,” I stammered, picking up the tube of lubricant, turning it over in my hands a few times. “I do. I just…”_

_“You ain’t gonna disappoint me, Eli,” he assured. “I just like being close to you.”_

_I felt my chest clench. I wanted to tell him I liked being close to him, too, though I know it was evident. I wanted to tell him in detail everything I loved about him, all the ways he changed my life, how much I was going to miss him when he went back to rehab. Instead, I leant forward and kissed him, whispering a soft, “I love you,” against his lips._

_“Love you, too,” he echoed back. “Just do me one favor, yeah?”_

_“What?”_

_“I want you to talk to me. I wanna hear you.”_

_“Why? I...I’m shite at that kind of thing,” I argued, uncapping the lube and coating my fingers._

_“Cos your voice is dead sexy.” I must have made a face, because he immediately launched into a diatribe about how serious he was and how much my voice turned him on._

_“Alright, alright,” I cut him off. “I’ll talk to you, just pull your knees up so I can see what I’m doing.”_

_“You promise?” The way his face lit up, I found it nearly impossible to deny him._

_“I promise.”_

_“Genius!” Gabe smiled, laying fully back and drawing up his knees. “Thank you, Eli.”_

_“Don’t thank me until you’ve heard the results,” I mumbled, circling my fingertip around his entrance. I heard him sigh softly, watched his eyes fall closed._

_“Mmm, c’mon, Eli. Wanna feel you.” I pushed in to the first knuckle, waiting for him to relax before thrusting into him gently, until he could take more and more of the digit. I could feel my silence growing heavier, and yet when I searched my brain for something appropriate to say in this delicate situation, I found none. It was no surprise when Gabe finally broke the silence and called me out._

_“Eli,” Gabe sighed, on the verge of whinging. “You promised you’d talk to me.”_

_“About what?” I mumbled, my eyes drifting to where my finger breached him again and again, loosening him up. “What would I even say? I can’t...do that like you do.”_

_“Anything,” he huffed, shifting his hips down against my hand. “I just like your voice is all. What’s your favorite verse? You’ve got all that shit memorized, yeah?”_

_I paused for a moment, steadying myself, and lowered myself onto my stomach. Resting there, in the dark--between his legs, my face against his hip--I reminded myself that I was safe. That he wouldn’t make me feel foolish if I somehow failed. That I promised to give him what he needs--to take care of him._

_So I took a breath, and began._

_“My beloved put his hand through the keyhole. My heart throbbed for him.”_

_“Just your heart?” Gabe chuckled, his fingers stroking through my hair._

_“Oh, shut up,” I smirked against his hip. Leaning up on my elbows, I gently removed my fingers and grabbed for the lube. “I got up to open for my beloved. My hands dripped with myrrh.” I trickled a generous amount of lube between his legs and pressed two fingers against his entrance._

_“And my fingers were drenched with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock,” I continued with a smirk._

_“Arse.”_

_“Love you, too.” I settled back down against him--not to hide from embarrassment, but because my arm was getting tired. I felt the hair between his legs stir with my breath as I kept going, “I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had turned away. He was gone! I almost died when he left. I looked for him, but I did not find him. I called for him, but he did not answer me.”_

_The mood between us shifted slightly. I felt his hands against my scalp, fingers gentle and soothing as they ran through my hair. My voice, of its own accord, became softer and betrayed my emotion. The darkness could not save me then._

_“Young women of Jerusalem, swear to me that if you find my beloved, you will tell him I am hopelessly lovesick.”_

_“I’m ready, Eli,” Gabe breathed above me, his voice soft and tinged with something delicate and vulnerable. “Need you.”_

_“Are there still condoms in your bag?” There was a pause before he said my name--questioning, confused, possibly a little bit hurt. “I don’t want to come immediately again,” I clarified._

_“Oh, yeah. Yeah, there should be a few still.”_

_Leaning off the side of the bed, I dug around in his bag until I felt a foil packet against my fingertips. I made quick work of readying myself--giving myself a couple of strokes, opening and rolling on the condom. Covering Gabe’s body with my own, I reached down between us and pressed my fingers against his opening again._

_“Are you sure?” I asked._

_“Yes, please. M’ready.” He reached for me in the dark--one hand on my shoulder, the other landing gently but clumsily against my face. We shared a soft chuckle, and I kissed him sweetly on his lips as I lined myself up._

_He was just as hot and tight around me as the last time, and I groaned, “Condom’s fucking useless,” through my clenched teeth once I was fully inside him. The beginnings of a laugh started to tumble from his lips before I begged him not to move, and he stifled it._

_I waited a few more moments before giving a timid thrust, relishing the small grunt it coaxed from Gabe. We stayed mostly silent as we tried to find our rhythm--the most that was said were things such as, “Yeah?”, “There”, “Like this?”, and, “Oh, yesss”._

_He stopped pushing the topic of me keeping up my version of dirty talk once I was inside of him, but I didn’t want to leave off on a down note. I waited until the rhythm was established and Gabe was moaning pretty steadily._

_“Close?” I asked._

_“Nearly,” he breathed. “You feel so good inside of me, Eli.”_

_I bit the insides of my cheeks and groaned, tucking my face into the crook of Gabe’s neck. “Touch yourself,” I whispered, blushing furiously._

_Again, I waited for his strokes to match my thrusts, for him to get closer before I tilted my mouth up to his ear. “My beloved is dazzling, yet ruddy,” I breathed. “He stands out among 10,000 men.”_

_“Eli?” he questioned weakly, turning his head towards me, seeking out my lips. We kissed, our thrusts growing more frantic, and broke apart, gasping for air._

_“His head is the finest gold. His hair is wavy, black as a raven. His eyes are set like doves bathing in milk. His lips--fuck!” My hips stuttered in their rhythm as he bit my shoulder, sucking hard at my skin. He pulled back and moaned, “Harder, Eli.”_

_“His lips,” I started again, beginning to pant as my thrusts became harder, faster, “are lilies that drip with myrrh.”_

_“Yes, Eli!” He tugged at my hair, and I felt his fist moving more desperately over his cock._

_“His hands are--Oh!-- disks of gold set with emerald,” I gasped out, reaching down to help stroke him off, and pressed my lips to the shell of his ear to whisper, “His cock is--mmm--a block of ivory covered with sapphires.”_

_Gabe’s back bowed, arching up against me. I felt his nipples hard against my skin as our chests slid together. His release seeped between my fingers, hot and sticky. “Come, come, come,” he kept breathing, chanting, over and over, “Come for me Eli, let me feel you.”_

_“His mouth,” I panted, “His mouth is s-sweet in every way--Ah!” My head fell back of its own accord, my hips snapping forward twice, and my orgasm hit me like a lorry. I felt my come enveloping the head of my cock, filling the condom, and I realized it’d been so long since I’d used a condom that I had forgotten that feeling._

_Carefully, I pulled out and knelt between Gabe’s still spread legs as I removed and tied up the condom, tossing it into the bin next to the bed. When I turned my attention back to him, Gabe was sleepily beckoning me back on top of him. Gingerly, I settled against him, keeping most of my weight on my arms at either side of him._

_I dropped my head to his chest, kissing and licking away his sweat. “Everything about him,” I continued, “is desirable. This is my beloved. This is my friend.”_

_“What has gotten into you?” Gabe laughed weakly, his fingers playing through my hair._

_“Marry me.”_

_The words were out of my mouth before I had time to censor them. Oddly enough, I felt calm, having spoken them. Gabe’s fingers stilled in my hair._

_“That part of the verse?”_

_“No. You don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to say anything. That was just...something I felt. That I feel. So I said it. I love you, and I’d love to marry you some day.”_

_“You’re insane,” he said fondly, fingers resuming their play._

_“Maybe. But I mean it.”_

_He stayed silent for a long moment before saying, in a nearly astonished tone, “I’m not scared.”_

_“You’re not scared?” I picked my head up, squinting at him in the pre-dawn light._

_“I…” he started, fidgeting beneath me. “Get off me, yeah? I wanna cuddle.” I obliged, rolling off to the side and allowing him to tuck himself into the side of my body, his head on my chest. I felt him open and close his mouth a few times, clearly trying to figure out the best way to phrase something, and I knew this position switch was a tactic to keep me from seeing his face whenever he finally got around to spitting it out._

_“Right. I said I ain’t good with...that I don’t typically say ‘I love you’ easily, yeah?”_

_“You did.” I agreed._

_“I...I get scared, alright? You tell someone you love them--that’s like handing your heart over to them. They can do anything to you then.” His voice got softer, pressing his face tighter to my chest. “I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me, Eli. But it’s hard not to be scared.”_

_“I know. Better than anyone else, perhaps. I...Fuck fear!”_

_“You fuck fear?” he chuckled, pinching me playfully on my side. “You’ve been cheating on me with the concept of fear, huh?”_

_“I’m serious, Gabriel. Fuck fear. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to live in fear any more! You said to me you want me to be with you because you’re the ‘best dick’ I’ve had and not ‘the only dick’, but...I don’t care. I don’t care. I could be with forty men and I don’t think any of them would make me feel the way you do. I…”_

_I trailed off, sitting up to light a cigarette. In the flash of my lighter’s flame, I could see Gabe leaned up on his elbows, regarding me curiously. I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it twirl and dissipate in the muted grey light of morning._

_“I turn 31 next month. Until I met you, I was...so fucking afraid of who I was--of what I wanted--that I just resigned myself to just...living a lie! I love Jen as much as I can but I’m not _in_ love with her. And I was perfectly content with staying as long as she’d have me. And I…” _

_I paused in my diatribe when I felt Gabe’s hand on my arm. I sighed. “I’ve lived in fear for 30 years. And I’m done. I don’t want to live that way any more. I want to be honest now. And I...I know there are things you are willing to tell me but need time. And that’s fine. I don’t want you to do anything before you’re ready. But I...no more secrets, okay? Now that we’re out of danger, no more secrets. You can have time to tell me things and I won’t push, but I just...promise me no more secrets.”_

_He was quiet, his gaze focused on where his fingers were wrapped around my arm. Finally, he said, “That’s fair. I’ll promise that.”_

_“Thank you,” I sighed, passing him my cigarette. I watched as he took a pull, tipping his head back on the exhale. He passed it back to me and laid back down, his head on my lap._

_“I’ll be back in rehab for your birthday.” His voice was small._

_“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” I smirked down at him, massaging his scalp with my fingertips._

_“When is it? What day?”_

_“The fifth.”_

_“July fifth. That makes you a Cancer, don’t it?”_

_“Ugh, don’t tell me you believe in all that shit.”_

_“That’s what me and Kat first bonded over!” He laughed._

_“Of course it is.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me._

_“Makes sense you’re a Cancer. You’re real emotional. Crabby.” I felt him smirk against my thigh._

_“What’re you, then?”_

_“Scorpio. I’m a highly sexual mess.”_

_“You know,” I smirked back, stubbing my cigarette out in the ashtray, “this whole astrology thing is starting to sound more credible.”_

_“Oh, shut up,” he sighed fondly, scooting over to give me room to lie back down._

_“That’s your version of ‘I love you’. When you tell me to shut up or call me an arse in that tone. When we first started...this,” I gestured ineffectually between us, “I used to worry I was more into you than you were me. But then I learned what to look for, or listen for. To know that you love me. Or that you feel the same way.”_

_“Are you always this chatty after you get your dick wet!?” Gabe laughed, weaving our legs together._

_“Crude. You’re crude. And no. Like I said, I’m done with fear.”_

_“You fuck fear. You make fear your bitch.” He yawned._

_“No, no, no. I wine and dine fear. I romance it. Make love to it. Treat it like a real lady.”_

_“You’re ridiculous. I love you.”_

_“Marry me,” I smirked._

_“Let’s see where we’re at once I get back, yeah?”_

_“You’re not scared?”_

_“Not as much as I thought I’d be.”_

_“Okay. Good.”_

_I settled back into the pillows and fell asleep with a smile._

_****************_

_Gabe was asleep on the sofa when I got back._

_Grasping his shoulder, I shook him awake. “Gabe! Gabe!”_

_“What?” He woke with a start, eyes wide and unfocused._

_“Jen wants to meet you.”_

_He blinked up at me, dumbly, for a second before asking, “Is she...here now?”_

_“Well, no.”_

_“Then what’s with the panic? I thought you was done with fear.”_

_“You’ve been all over the news for months, Gabriel. The world knows you as a drug addict implicated in a serious crime!”_

_“Well, obviously it’ll have to wait until I come back from rehab--”_

_“You’re not understanding!” I interjected, cutting him off. “What if because I’m with you, she thinks I’m unfit to be a parent? What if she keeps my kid away from me?”_

_Gabe sighed and stretched, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”_

_I must have looked as though I were on the verge of passing out, or hyperventilating, because he grasped my hands and pulled me down to his level, looking me in the eye as he spoke slowly, “Look. We’ll tell her--if she even mentions it--that we met after I was part of that robbery, yeah? That you didn’t know anything about it, and that by the time you had started falling for me, you found out. About that and my ‘drug use’, yeah? I had kept that hidden from you as best I could up til that point. You’ll come out in that story lookin’ a treat. Big-hearted man capable of loving someone like me, with all my flaws, yeah?”_

_“I guess,” I grumbled, before breaking out into a grin. “This is quite different. Being in on a plan.”_

_“Oh, shut up,” Gabe grinned back, leaning in to kiss me. “So tell her I’m a bit busy right now, and when I’m out, we’ll all get together and have a nice dinner and get to know each other, yeah?”_

_“Okay. Okay, yeah. You’re right.” I sighed, standing up. “Are you hungry? I could make you a cheese toasty.”_

_“That sounds genius!” His face lit up. He stretched once more before following me into the kitchen. “What about you?”_

_“I had lunch with Jen. But I’ll sit with you while you eat, if you want.” I put the small skillet on the hob and turned it on. “Get the bread out of the pantry, please.”_

_“How’d it go? Aside from her wanting to meet me,” he asked, sliding the loaf onto the worktop._

_“Everything’s great! We got the scans in, if you want to see. Got one in my pocket.”_

_“Yeah! Give us a look!” He crowded into my space, and I was taken aback, momentarily, by his enthusiasm. I took the scan out, and held it up for him._

_“I felt quite shite, while the doctor was doing it, because Jen was so happy she was crying, and the doctor was pointing him out, and...I just see blobs? I can’t make anything out of this,” I admitted._

_“Afraid I won’t be of help there. Where do you think his head is? Wait--His? Him? You know the sex of the baby? It’s a boy?”_

_“Yeah. I mean...Jen didn’t want to tell anybody because she thinks it’s stupid to focus on. And I agree. I mean...but, I just…”_

_“It makes it feel more real, innit?” Gabe interjected._

_“Yeah! Just saying ‘the baby’ is too...conceptual? Having a pronoun to use makes it feel more real. Like, this is an actual human that’s going to be moving around in the world, interacting with the same reality as me. That’s real.”_

_“That’s very real.” he agreed, taking the scan from me and putting it on the fridge with an old magnet._

_I went about buttering the bread and putting a slice in the pan. Two slices of cheese on top of that. Bread again. Gabe slid up behind me, his arms wrapped around me, head resting between my shoulder blades as I worked._

_“That all? How’s Jen doing, then?” he mumbled into my shirt._

_“She’s great. Well, she’s gassy and her feet are swollen. But--and not to minimize any of that, mind--but that kind of thing is to be expected, really. Get us a plate down, will you?”_

_I heard him rummaging around in the cabinets, and then the scrape of the plate on the worktop as he slid it close to me._

_“She asked again if I’m gay,” I mumbled._

_“What’d you tell her?” he asked, resuming his place against my back._

_“Same thing I’ve been telling her. I’m not sure.” I sounded aggravated even to my own ears._

_“You don’t have to be sure. I know it’s...it feels shit not being able to say you are bi or gay and say it definitively, but...you need some time to sort it. And that’s fine. Everyone goes through that. Except straight people, apparently.” He laughed at that last bit, kissed my shoulder through my shirt._

_“I suppose,” I sighed, sliding his sandwich onto the plate for him. I turned off the stove and followed him into the front room._

_We settled onto the sofa, Gabe’s legs slung over mine. I watched him pick apart his sandwich, dangling long strings of melted cheese above his head, coaxing them into his mouth with his tongue. The energy between us was relaxed, though it was underpinned with the knowledge that we only had two more days together, before he had to turn himself in. It made my chest hurt to think about it._

_Sighing, I grasped his left foot and started massaging the sole, letting my head fall back against the sofa. Even though I was tired--or perhaps because of it--random images and thoughts passed in and out of my mind, unbidden and meaningless as I sat and rubbed Gabe’s socked feet._

__The feel of Gabe’s body pressed comfortingly against my back as I cook. The pigeon I saw hopping along the pavement as I walked with Jen to a cafe that day. The grainy image of my blob-son. The sound of his heartbeat--so immense for something so small. The smell of wisteria growing on a house near the doctor’s office._ _

_Gabe hummed happily and wiggled his toes. I kept my eyes closed but smiled, gently squeezing his foot before dropping it to pick up the other._

_I felt flooded with content, just enjoying this uncomplicated, domestic moment. Fleetingly, I entertained the thought that this could be it. This could be what our lives together could be like once he gets out. Simple. Uncomplicated. Instead of running, we might get the chance to be this still and calm and steady. I relaxed further into the sofa, my mind moving on to the next thing, and the next…_

__Jen’s new manicure, her nails no longer chipped. Jan’s indifference to me when she came to pick Jen up. The sound of a group of teen girls laughing on the bus ride home. The gleam of morning sunlight against Gabe’s eyes this morning. The contrast of that against the first time I saw him, heavily shadowed in the hallway of my childhood home. The difference between those two instances, and how the neon lights from his car radio play off his eyes. The smell of fresh bread at the bakery down the street._ _

_Another image flashed through my mind and my eyes popped open. Gabe set his empty plate down on the coffee table and snuggled into my side. I wrapped my arm around him and rubbed at his scalp with my fingertips. He slid his hand up under my t-shirt, running his fingers through my chest hair. I sat there, silent and alone with my memory, wandering how to bring it up, or if I should at all. Finally, I decided to just tip a toe into the waters._

_I turned my head, pressing my nose into his hair. “Where’s your ring?”_

_I felt his body stiffen subtly for a second, before going pliant again. “Took if off before I left. Y’know...the night I got arrested. Should be somewhere in my flat, still. Dunno what the policy on jewelry was in rehab. Didn’t ask. So I’m not...I dunno. Worried about it right now. Why? You plannin’ on proposing to me again?” He turned his head and smirked at me. I kissed him, soft and sweet and lingering for just a moment._

_“No. I was just wondering.” I yawned, allowing my head to fall to the back of the sofa once more. I didn’t realize my eyes had fallen shut again until they snapped open when I felt Gabe wriggling out of my grasp, getting off the sofa._

_“C’mon.” He held his hand out to me. “Let’s go lay down. We could probably both do with a kip.”_

_“Alright,” I agreed, allowing him to help pull me up._

_In the bedroom, we stripped quickly to just our pants and bundled ourselves under the covers, cuddling close. I waited a until a few moments after we’d both gotten comfortable before bringing it back up._

_“You kept it on a long time. Even after I had taken mine off,” I pointed out, softly._

_“The ring?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Seriously--are you proposing again?” he joked._

_“No. Not yet.” I pressed our foreheads together. “You tease and make jokes when you don’t want to talk about something. You try to make things lighter when you’re being evasive.”_

_I felt his shoulders sag under my arm. “I know.”_

_“It’s okay. But I am learning.”_


End file.
